Tumblr Prompts
by jscoutfinch
Summary: A place for my Tumblr Prompts. Ratings vary - but go up to M
1. Staycation

She couldn't justify leaving the town for something as silly as a vacation, even for a weekend. Killian had been all but begging her [damn pirate puppy eyes] for some "alone" time and god did she want it. But every time she got comfortable Leroy would come screaming through the streets about some immortal monster destroying the town.

It was actually Killian's idea - but she fancied it. He didn't know the term "staycation" of course, but the plan was to go to his place [their place, really, but she won't say it out loud yet], toss their phones into his safe, and lock the door. No outside contact for at least 24 hours.

He'd done the shopping while she was at work.

"I've got it, Swan. See you at home." He smiled and grabbed her elbow lightly as he pulled her in for a kiss, sending her off to work.

Domesticated Captain Hook was still an odd sight. She chuckled to herself imagining a dozen plastic grocery bags dangling from his hook while he fished in his pocket for the house key.

Yup. Still weird. But good weird.

She didn't really know what to expect when she got home. She'd left work in a good enough state, nothing David couldn't handle, but she still felt irresponsible being unreachable for a full 24 hours.

As she pushed the door open she was greeted with the sight of a barefoot Killian at the stove wearing a green apron tied around his shirtless back and a pair of dark gray sweatpants hanging temptingly low on his hips, which were rocking in rhythm to The Arctic Monkeys album playing in the background.

"Ah, Swan. I was hoping you'd get here soon. Almost ready, my love. Wine is on the counter." He looked over his right shoulder to throw her a smile, but kept working at the stove.

"Woah, you've got a lot going on here, Emeril," she joked while shucking off her jacket and boots and surveyed the kitchen. Green beans, spaghetti, a hearty and vibrant tomato sauce, a pan with perfectly browned Italian sausages and garlic bread in the oven.

Her stomach growled just looking at it - and she didn't even realize she was hungry. He chuckled at the sound and she stepped forward to kiss his shoulder blade as he worked - watching the muscles of his upper back dance at his stirring movements inspired her to tuck her hands under the apron and grip him around the waist, pressing her body into his slightly. They did have 24 hours to themselves, she thought. He groaned just then, as if he could hear her musing thought.

"Love, as much as I don't ever want you to stop doing …" he hissed as she moved her hands to his hip bones "that …" he closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. "You can be quite distracting, and I am literally playing with fire here."

"I thought you said you love a challenge?" she quipped, eyebrow quirking up as she stepped back to grab her waiting glass of wine.

"That I do, love but it's challenge enough to complete this bloody meal while I know you are my captive for the next 24 hours. Alas, we'll need our sustenance for the night ahead." He winked at her saucily and went about assembling plates.

They ate their dinner chatting pleasantly about their respective days. His spent gathering groceries and working on the Jolly, hers spent doing an endless amount of paperwork.

She walked the plates back to the kitchen and started to rinse them off and put them in the dishwasher ["yet another example that this realm did indeed have magic" as he said when he bought the place.]

"We've only got 23 hours left, darling. Let's deal with those later." He smiled darkly and pulled her wet hand from the sink. "I've got other, more enjoyable, activities planned for our staycation."


	2. New Saturday Tradition

She figures it has something to do with his limited exposure to sugar - the way he goes absolutely crazy for it. It's like watching a child's first birthday, as they dig their tiny hands directly into the cake, mostly demolishing it and relishing the feel of it between their fingers, until they bring their hand to their mouth and their eyes go wide with the sudden realization that their lives will never be the same again.

The first time she sees that look on his face is at Granny's. They'd met for breakfast, the usual routine of two black coffees to-go expanded to enjoy a lazy Saturday morning over pancakes.

Killian was reluctant to try something new, given the awful experience he had with hot dogs last week. He was disgusted and appalled until they told him it wasn't actually dog, and then he tasted it and was disgusted and appalled all over again anyway.

"I'm not quite sure I trust your judgment when it comes to the culinary arts, love," he said, sliding next to her at their booth, hip gently nudging hers playfully.

"Just trust me on this one - it's a classic." Emma responded with a smile, snaking her arm under his, placing her hand lovingly on his leg.

"For you, my darling - anything."

She blushed at his sincerity. It was almost easier to handle all the blatant innuendo. Laugh it off and move on. The quiet heartfelt comments still knocked the wind out of her - like she'd been running full tilt and gotten clotheslined.

Emma simply rubbed gentle circles on his leg with her thumb in response, grateful for his silence as Ruby made her way over with two plates of pancakes.

"Sorry to interrupt," she teased, looking up at a still flushed Emma through her long lashes. "Enjoy, you two - and I don't just mean the pancakes," she added saucily, flicking her tongue out to moisten her bottom lip in a suggestive manner.

Killian chuckled lowly and lifted his fork to prod at the food on his plate - scrunching his nose a little as his lifted the pancake gingerly, only to have it flop awkwardly back to the plate.

"I'm trying my best, Swan, but you must admit this doesn't exactly look appealing," Killian grumbled.

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure?" She teased. "The fearsome Captain Hook, afraid of a little pancake."

"Tread carefully there lass. Pirates don't take kindly to mockery," he lowers his voice and leans in to whisper hotly into the delicate shell of her ear "and I've got a few inventive ideas to punish you appropriately."

She shudders under his "threat," and takes a calming breath moving her hand from his thigh to pick up the small bottle of syrup and generously pour it over his plate and hers.

He quirks a questioning brow at her.

"Try something new, darling," she quips, picking up her fork and leading the way.

Hesitantly, he grasps his fork and wiggles it back and forth to separate a small piece of syrup soaked pancake. He brings it up to his mouth and stills it by his nose, taking a few tentative sniffs before closing his mouth around the fork, pulling it from his lips cleanly.

He rolls the bite around a little, eyes widening as the sweet syrup and fluffy pancake hit his tongue.

"Seven hells, lass! This is amazing!" He says through another mouthful.

She chuckles at his enthusiasm.

"I told you. It's a classic," she smiled sweetly, working on the plate in front of her.

"Why the blazes didn't you start with this?" He said, picking up the syrup and flooding his plate with even more of the sticky substance. It only took a few minutes for his plate to be clean - scraping his hook along the gentle curve of the dish, trying to pick up any lingering syrup.

She only realized how inappropriate it was when he lifted his hook to his lips, tongue venturing out to wrap around the metal - eyes flicking to hers as his tongue swept around it's sharp tip.

Suddenly it was all too hot in here, her cheeks and chest turning pink at the sight of him.

"See something you like, Swan?" he challenges.

"Perhaps," she retorts coolly.

"What do you say we make this a tradition?" He inquires.

"I could get used to that." She says, grabbing his hand and interlocking their fingers. "Who would have guessed the bloodthirsty pirate has such a sweet tooth."

Every Saturday from them on, without fail, you'd find them snuggled together in the same booth at Granny's enjoying his new favorite dish with far too much ["Darling, I'm sure you mean just enough"] sugary syrup.


	3. A Gentleman and a Pirate

It's impossible for him not to openly stare at her [In fact, it's damn near killing him not to throw himself across the room, take her hand, and pull her into the dark hallway and show her exactly what she does to him].

She's finally smiling again, her emerald eyes shining brilliantly with hope and love for the family that finally not only found her, but pulled her from the darkness. Her blonde tresses fall in graceful waves against the plane of her exposed back. The black dress she's flaunting hugs her in all the right places and dips just far enough down in the back for him to know she's not wearing that complicated modern corset he both loves and hates so very much.

As is the Storybrooke tradition when a villain is defeated - they decided to have a party at Granny's when they able to banish the darkness from the Savior, and they all returned safely home. But the ordeal was not without cost - Emma was different. The darkness had changed her.

She was bolder [that dress] - her recent trial leaving her galvanized to hesitate less and enjoy the quiet moments more, because before you know it, there will be something else threatening to destroy it all.

He brought what had to be his 5th (or was it 6th) glass of rum to his lips, a little overzealous in his hurry to numb the sensations the sight of her was causing, and the dark liquid sloshed noisily as he tipped the glass and let the familiar burn slide down his throat and through his body.

As he brought the glass back down to the bar in front of him, her eyes caught his. He wasn't sure if it was the intensity of her gaze or the lingering buzz of the alcohol that made him feel so unsteady on his feet, but he resolved to maintain his composure.

After all, her mother and father were still standing right next to her, and if he let himself do what he was thinking - the prince would surely grab that cake knife and relive their alternate reality.

Bristling a little at the phantom pain the memory had caused, he poured himself another generous portion of his drink of choice and found his way over to a booth - his body more falling into the seat than sitting in it - a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he ran his hand through his hair.

At times like this he was actually a little glad that people had a tendency to flock to the Charmings and away from him. He was grateful for the chance to be alone with his drink - if he was any closer to her he's not sure he could hold back, but he desperately wants to be the gentleman that she deserves. Even from here he can't help but watch her every move.

Emma gently touches her mother's elbow and leans in to whisper something in her ear that causes Snow to blush a little, but then to smile and nod, leaning away from Emma, and toward David, snaking her arm around his back and leaning her head against his shoulder while he animatedly continues telling the dwarves about one of their many adventures in Camelot.

Killian suddenly finds himself no longer alone - Emma sliding into the booth next to him. He closes his eyes to steel himself and gain control as her intoxicating smell assaults the last of his resolve. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Just - her.

"Steady there, sailor," she teases, taking the drink he was holding far too tightly. "What's the matter? Can't hold your rum?"

He growls a little at her open flirtation, his voice low and filled with warning "Emma …"

"You know Ruby helped me pick out this dress. She thought you'd like it, but the way you've been avoiding me all night, maybe she's losing her touch."

Of course the bloody wolf picked that dress.

Emma slid back out of the booth, grabbing the curve of his hook to pull him to his feet.

"You don't like it?" She took a step away from him and turned a little to toss him an infuriatingly sexy pout over her shoulder, hand on her hip, drawing his eye to the exposed skin that had been driving him mad all night long.

In that moment, his resolve broke. He wanted to make her feel just as unsettled as he was.

He stepped forward, his hand covering hers on her hip as he run the blunt curve of his hook up the delicate skin of her spine - the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake as he whispered hotly into her neck.

"You know damn well how much I like it, just as I know how much you like this," as he hissed out that final word he pushed his hips forward just the slightest bit so she could feel the heavy outline of him through the thin fabric of her dress.

She shudders slightly before stepping forward and out of his grasp and Killian berates himself for losing control - thinking he's frightened her away, now feeling a little exposed.

He thinks to himself that she needs him to be strong - to be a gentleman. She's still recovering from her ordeal. She needs time. She's not ready yet. Give her time.

He's trying desperately to regain control, but it seems like she wants him just as badly, and it's so tempting to give in. Sure, maybe she wants him now - she's been through a lot and he understands the desire to live in the moment after something traumatic, but he doesn't want it to be a rash decision made out of fear. So he has to be strong. Disciplined.

While he was lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that her stepping away wasn't her pulling away - she looks back at him from the shadows of the dark hallway quizzically as he hasn't moved an inch.

"Aren't you coming, Captain?" Her hushed tone highlighting the husky edge to her voice.

"Emma, love, I-" He scratches behind his ear nervously. "I can't."

Her brow furrows with concern and he can see her demeanor change from sultry to worried.

"Killian," she stretches her hand out to him and they meet at the door frame, gripping his hand and hook carefully. "What's going on? You've been… distant since I got back. I know I said lurking and brooding was a classic combo, and don't get me wrong, your pouty face is surprisingly sexy - but I thought you'd be more - I don't know."

"Darling, I'm just trying not to push you. I know that just before… well, what you said… and, I didn't know if that was just because you thought you'd never me again, or if you truly" the words died on his lips, but live on hers.

"Love you. Yes. Killian," she leans up onto her toes to kiss him sweetly. "I'm in love with you. You make me feel like I'm home. You make me feel like I'm important, like I belong, like I matter. We fought this for far too long. I fought this for too long. And now, now I just want to be with you."

His eyes search hers as she speaks, amazed by the honesty he finds there.

"Swan, are you sure? Are you sure it's not just because of what you've been through? I'm not fit for a princess, and I know that after traumatic events people tend to act - impulsively," he lifts his hand to her face, cupping it gently and tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"I'm sure. I was sure before the darkness. I've known since the alternate reality and I suspected since long before," she added. "I want this. I want you." She steps forward to press her body into his lightly and her voice drops a little again, "I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. I want all of you."

At that last bit she pulls him toward her, his feet tangling a little as he stumbles into her, accidentally pressing her into the wall with a rush of air leaving his chest - she laughs a little and kisses him fiercely.

It takes only a second for Killian to return her kiss with equal passion. The few remaining strands of his hesitancy falling away - finally believing that this is truly what she wants, and his heart feels impossibly full that such an incredible woman wants him.

Her hand is at the back of his neck, fingers sliding through his already mussed hair. His hand is gripping her hip insistently, then moving to her back, tracing the dangerously low dip of the fabric before slipping his hand underneath it to squeeze her ass - her breath hitching at his movement.

She grinds lightly against him, feeling him hard and ready for the second time in the past hour - and he moans into her mouth.

He breaks their kiss to choke out her name, realizing that they're still in the hallway.

"Love, as much as I want to continue - this is hardly the appropriate place. If your father comes 'round that corner we'll have a repeat performance of my quick and painful death."

"Then what do you say we set sail?" She says through panted breaths.

"The Jolly Roger?" he asks.

"Aye, Captain." She responds.

He has no clue how they even made it to the ship, he just knows his pants are uncomfortably tight, and they aren't likely to make it below deck. She uses her magic to cast a spell - the entire ship disappearing with a flick of her wrist.

"Thank God for magic," she says while he peppers her neck with kisses. She's up against the railing and he can't think of anything but how amazing she feels.

She responds by pulling him deeper into a kiss and opening her stance to allow him closer - his erection straining painfully as she grinds against him where she wants him most, throwing her head back wantonly.

"Seven hells, lass - You're killing me" he whines before his voice darkens. "I don't think I can be a gentleman anymore."

"Whoever said I wanted you to be a gentleman?" She quirks a flirtatious eyebrow at him. "Maybe I'm in the mood for a pirate."

With that he slips the tip of his hook in her neckline and pulls downward with one quick motion, the fabric cutting easily, leaving her bare before him. His eyes rake her body, before he lifts her up and she hooks her legs around his back and he pulls her over to the mast - finally leaving the gentleman behind, and becoming the pirate.

"As you wish."


	4. Anemone

The first time he saw her obnoxious yellow bug, it was double parked in the two best spots right out front of his flower shop.

It was Valentine's Day and he was completely overwhelmed with orders. Between phone calls he happened to see her pull in - and he cursed under his breath about terrible drivers as he watched her hurriedly throw the car into park, toss open the door so hard it bounced back on it's hinges a bit, and run down the street.

"What the bloody hell could be so important?" He muttered to himself while his nimble fingers worked a strip for floral tape around a lush bouquet of red roses.

It only took another few seconds to make his decision – he whipped out his phone and stepped out onto the sidewalk to take a picture of the the license plate, then a picture of her horrible parking job, smirking to himself about karma.

As he stepped back inside he placed a call to the towing company [he should have both prime spots open again in 30 minutes].

He wasn't able to enjoy his revenge for long, though, before the phone started ringing again and he found himself awash in last-minute orders from boyfriends and husbands who needed a floral miracle to make it seem like the didn't forget about the importance of the day.

In fact, he was so busy he didn't even notice that the tow truck had come and gone, and the yellow blight had long since disappeared.

It was only around closing time when things had finally calmed down [at this point anyone who wanted to give flowers had either already done it, or he'd see them in the morning for an apologetic bouquet] that he finally saw her.

When she first arrived she was a blur of blonde hair and brown leather, and that was all he saw. This time around she was much slower, almost sad-looking. He watched as she walked length of the sidewalk, several times – for a while maybe she was just pacing, but now it was clear she was looking for her car - her brow knitted while she tried to figure out if she had the wrong street.

She must've seen the sign with the tow company's information just then. Her shoulders dropped as she released a heavy sigh, and she ran a hand through her hair as she squatted down to sit on the curb and scroll through her phone.

Maybe it was just because it was Valentine's Day, and for some reason she just seemed so terribly lonely - he started to regret calling the tow company. He didn't technically do anything wrong, but seeing anyone so dejected made his heart ache – and he was upset knowing he was partially to blame.

He didn't know anything about her – save for that she was an exceptionally bad driver, but he knew exactly what he wanted to do to make up for his rash decisions earlier that day.

In the back he found a single yellow anemone - a vibrant sunny hue, petals curled delicately at the edges, inky bluish-black center. It was one of his favorites – something about it being so vibrant at the edges with a hint of darkness at the center just struck him as a much more honest and real beauty.

It made him think of her. The yellow bug being almost cloyingly young and cheerful, and the woman he saw in front of the shop, hunched in the dark, looking broken.

The jingle of the bell tied to the handle of the door is what made her turn around – her deep green eyes magnified by the tears threatening to spill over, rimmed in red, cheeks flushed. She took his breath away.

How did he not notice how beautiful she was before? He stepped beside her and flopped down on the curb next to her [a little surprised at his own boldness – thinking this is a horrible idea since you're the one who made her day awful in the first place].

"I figure I owe you this, for letting this blessed holiday get the better of me and for being a tremendous prick," he sheepishly holds the stem out for her, and she uncrosses her arms just long enough to take it.

"So you're the one who called it in?" She sniffled a little as she asked, not looking up from the spot on the street she'd chosen to stare at.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. To be fair - you did park illegally, and in my two best spots on a very busy day, I might add." He added, teasingly. "What had you in such a rush anyway?"

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't know you." He could see her posture stiffen at the words. "Not only are you a complete stranger, but as you put it, you're kind of a prick."

"I apologized for that, love. And the name's Killian Jones," he jutted his hand out, a peace offering.

She eyed his hand warily as it hung in the space between them. She wanted to keep being mad, but she knew he was fully within his rights to have her towed.

"Emma," she conceded and accepted his handshake, wiping at her eyes with her other hand.

"Got a last name, love?" his lips quirked into a tentative smile.

"Swan. Emma Swan."

"Well, Emma Swan. I've a proposition for you," he pushed himself up off of the curb and extended a hand to help her up.

"I'd be willing to take you to pick up your car, and pay for the tow," her eyes lit up at his words - finally catching a break today. "– if you come to dinner with me first."

Her eyes narrowed at him - sizing him up. Who was this guy? He tows her car, then gives her a flower and wants to take her to dinner?

But still, she has this odd feeling like she should trust him. She already feels at ease, even comforted by his presence - but that doesn't make any sense.

Undeterred by her lengthy silence, he just watches her curiously while she considers his proposal.

"Deal." She says shortly.

He breaks into a genuine smile at her acceptance as his fishes the shop keys from his pocket to lock up.

He offers his arm in an old-school display of chivalry, and she laughs a little but takes it nonetheless.

Over dinner they talk easily and find they have plenty in common – both have seen tremendous loss and sadness, both were in the foster system, both found themselves living on the streets for a period of time, both had been through bad relationships [that's what led to the bad parking job and the crying - she was visiting her now ex-boyfriend].

Neither of them realized how late it was until the restaurant was closing up around them.

"Oh my God, the car! How late can we pick it up?" she frantically grabbed her phone and jacket, pushing the chair back as she stood up to leave. He chuckled through his coffee.

"Love, they've been closed for an hour. I'll just have to take you in the morning."

She huffed a little, as he put down a tip for their waiter and gathered his things.

"Don't worry, darling. The offer still stands, I'll happily drop you off and pick you up to take you to your car in the morning. Where are you staying?"

"Well, I was supposed to be staying with …" her voice trailed off at his name. She couldn't bring herself to say it. Even thinking it led to flashes of what she'd unwillingly witnessed when she ran up to surprise him at his apartment earlier.

Apparently he knew Tamara from work, and what she saw was a "one time thing," as if that would make a difference.

"No matter, love. You can stay with me for the evening. And don't worry – I'll be a perfect gentleman and sleep on the couch. You can have the bed."

"Are you sure?" She was genuinely grateful for the offer, and despite her rational side protesting - she couldn't help that she found herself wanting to stay with him anyway. She didn't want the night to end.

"Absolutely." He said definitively.

The next morning she found him curled into what looked to be an incredibly uncomfortable and awkward position - hair tousled and sticking up at odd angles, mouth slightly agape and his face pressed into the arm of the couch.

She couldn't help but smile as she gently padded into the bathroom - eager to splash some water on her face and search for some mouthwash.

When she emerged from the bathroom she found him standing in front of the coffee maker - bleary eyed with sleep.

"I could still pick you up, if you want" he said, pushing the button to start brewing their coffee.

"What? How would that work?" She questioned. "I'm already –" He moved quickly for it being so early and he picked her up around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder like a fireman.

She slapped his back playfully and kicked his heels as he walked her over to the couch and flopped her onto the blankets.

"Seriously?!" Her tone was incredulous, but her dimpled smile and flushed cheeks told him she like his silly gesture.

—–

Before long they found themselves at the towing company's lot, her car paid for and ready for pickup. Their smiles faded as they found themselves back to reality.

He wanted to see her again – in fact, he was pretty sure he never wanted to be without her again. But that's crazy to say to someone you just met. and besides, he had no idea how she felt about him. Well, he has an idea, but he can't be sure.

Though she didn't know it, her thoughts and worries mirrored his. She felt more strongly about him than she should - especially for the short time they'd known each other. She shouldn't have gone to dinner with him. She definitely shouldn't have stayed in his house – and God, sleeping in his bed – his scent ingrained in the bedding, wrapping her up luxuriously.

"I don't want you to go," he said quietly. So quietly, she thought she made it up.

He cleared his throat and brought his piercing blue eyes to meet her dusky green ones sincerely, "Stay with me. For just a little longer."

Her heart leapt at the idea, wanting to scream yes. But her mind raced with all of the reasons she couldn't.

"Just – give me a minute," she said, pulling her phone from her back pocket and walking just far enough away so he couldn't hear the conversation she was having.

"A week." She said, beaming at him. "I called my boss. We've got a week. But I swear to God, Jones, if you turn out to be some kind of creeper, I'm out of here."

His eyes lit up at the news. "Well, I suppose I might have to have your car towed again – limit your means of escape" he teased, placing his hands at her waist, pulling her toward him by her hips until they bumped into each other lightly.

She blinked up at him through her long lashes, looking flustered, but happy. His eyes flickered down to her pert lips just before he moved to connect with them, gently at first - until she relaxed into the kiss, tilting her head to the side to grant him better access.

As the passion flared between them, they both knew they'd stumbled into something truly special.


	5. Distractions

For a while they take turns waking up alone - their nightmares checkerboarded so that neither of them get any sleep.

Sometimes he wakes to the sound of his own voice, hoarse with desperation, pleading with the demons of his mind not to hurt her, to leave her and her family alone. Her concerned eyes search his as she cups his cheek, helping him steady his breathing.

Sometimes she wakes in a cold sweat, images of his handsome features twisted and marred in pain as her father's blade slips from his back still fresh in her mind. He pulls her body closer to him, his hand stroking comforting circles into her hip as he whispers reassurances into her neck.

Eventually their bodies fall into a kind of rhythm, the rough nights hitting them both at the same time.

On those nights they don't even try anymore. They admit defeat and head to the couch for popcorn and Netflix. Actually, it's kind of become a ritual of sorts.

It's a night like this when Emma dramatically throws her arm over her face with a huff - straightening her legs and pointing her toes a little as she breathes deeply [the sheets smell like him - soap, leather, the ocean] and tries remember what woke her. Surprisingly, nothing comes to mind.

She rolls over to get more comfortable and ease herself back to sleep when she notices.

He's turned away from her, shoulders pulled in toward his chin, knees tucked toward his chest. He looks so small. His breathing is shaky and erratic, and she knows he's awake. He must've been the reason she woke up.

She slips her arm around his waist [the way he flinches at her touch doesn't go unnoticed] and pulls herself against him, kissing his shoulder lightly.

"You OK?" She whispers, voice filled with concern. This isn't like the others. Something is wrong. She grows even more worried as the silence between them grows longer.

"Killian?" She says a little louder, gripping his hip and gently pulling it toward the bed to turn him on his back. He fights for a moment before she feels his body relax and allow her to pull him over.

Even in the low light she can see that his eyes are rimmed red and he can't bring himself to look at her - he looks right through her.

"Tell me." She traces his jawline with her fingertips, the movement pulling him from the recesses of his mind. When he finally looks at her it's with both adoration and sadness.

"Was it the same one? With Gold?" She prompts. He only shakes his head a little in response.

He swallows hard - adam's apple bobbing as he shifts a little.

"Dave." He says simply, and she finally understands.

She knew that he remembered the alternate reality - he joked about holding it over her father's head - and the memory had found it's way into her dreams before, but he'd never talked about it haunting his own.

Seeing him like this made her feel like her heart was being ripped from her chest - which is funny considering it's something he's literally experienced and she's only heard of. But she imagines this is what it feels like - pressure and shooting pain so overwhelming you can hardly breathe.

His face is blank again - she can see that he's back there again, living the memory whether he's away or asleep.

"Killian, come back to me." She says lovingly - hand stroking his hair behind his ear.

"I'm trying, love." He screws his eyes shut - trying to banish the thoughts by will alone.

When he opens them again she sees that he succeeded, but she knows him well enough to know the calm won't last long without a distraction.

"Netflix?" she asks, propping herself on her elbow. "Or is there another distraction you prefer?" She puts her hand on her hip and pushes her chest out a little, smirking flirtatiously at him - hoping to break his sullen mood.

Finally, he smiles sweetly (not exactly the reaction she was hoping for, but she'll take it) and places a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I don't deserve you." He says as he pulls back a little to meet her eyes with sincerity.

"Quit it with that crap." She responds quickly, slapping his chest lightly - leaving her palm splayed over his heart - which beats a little faster at her candor. "I mean it."

"As you wish," he concedes. And she can tell the worst is over.

"Now, seriously, Netflix?" She offers, knowing they won't be able to sleep again, anyway.

His lopsided grin returns (which makes her heart feel unbelievably full), and in one swift movement he pulls her on top of him.

"I believe there was talk of another distraction," his hands hold her firmly in place while moves his hips in a teasing circle.

"As you wish" she echoes back to him.

He groans as she wriggles her hips a little so she can lower herself to him. He impatiently pulls her down to fuse their lips in a kiss that quickly leaves them short of breath.

"Bloody siren" he mumbles as she kisses a hot trail down his chest and dips her hand between them to palm at his length - she can feel him twitch and harden even further under her touch, his sharp intake of breath lets her know exactly what she's doing to him.

She snakes her way even farther down, slipping her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers - pulling them down as she goes.

Reversing direction, she continues kissing up the line of his muscular leg - his shin, his knee, his quad, his hip bone. If she wasn't practically dizzy with her own desire, she could probably hear his racing heart and shallow breaths.

As much as he loves the feeling of her slowly exploring his body, he feels the sudden urge to be in control, so he brings his hand to the small of her back, expertly flipping their positions - bringing him teasingly close to her core.

Her legs fall further open, unabashedly welcoming him further as he shifts his hips slowly, dragging his cock through her dripping folds - and she groans and grinds against him - searching for the friction her body desperately craves.

"Always so wet for me," he growls, continuing his motions.

She can hardly take it anymore, every fiber of her being is burning with want and he's taking so long.

"Killian, please -" her plea has barely left her lips before he buries himself completely in her with a single solid stroke.

"Bloody hell, Emma." He chokes out, stilling inside her before the feel of her stretched tightly around him takes him over the edge.

"God, Killian, move" she gyrates her hips and swallows his moan with a kiss.

He sets a languid pace, biting his lower lip as he catalogues every sensation, every breathy moan, every needy kiss.

Before long he can feel her start to tense - she's just as close as he his when he slips his hand to where they're joined, quickly finding her bundle of nerves and drawing light circles as she curses and praises him.

"Oh god, yes" she doesn't even notice how loud she is and he swells with pride at the way she reacts to his touch.

"Don't stop - don't stop" she keeps pleading with him as he insistently rubs tight circles with his hand and drives his hips into her earnestly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes her see stars just before she crashes over the edge - contracting around him with such force that it's all he can do to thrust into her one last time with a sharp snap - crying her name as he spills himself inside her.

They're a sated tangle of limbs and linens as they catch their breath.

"I love you, Killian." She sighs as she snuggles into his chest.

"And I you, Swan. Always." He kisses the top of her head and pulls her closer.

Once again, he feels complete. Whole. Content. And they're lulled back into a peaceful sleep - the nightmares replaced with heartwarming dreams of the future they're making together.


	6. Cancer Fighting Fic 1: The Swivel Chair

A/N: One of my **Cancer Fighting Fics,** in which I'm gifting one-shots/drabbles to the lovely shipmates to donate to my T-shirt fundraiser benefiting the American Cancer Society. This one is dedicated to amagicalship and annytecture on Tumblr. Carrie (amagicalship) had asked for "swivel chair smut" after a bunch of pictures came out from a recent con where Colin was, surprise surprise, wiggling around a bit in his swivel chair. Enjoy, ladies - and thank you for your generous donation!

* * *

How such a small town managed to create so much paperwork was still a mystery to her. She was still neck deep in a gigantic pile of backlogged incident reports that needed her attention and filing - and though David was helping out, it was still taking forever.

It seems that in their absence, the residents of Storybrooke raised a little hell of their own. Now that they'd been back for about a week, things were settling into their old routines pretty quickly.

She'd sent her father home to Mary Margaret about an hour ago, knowing that he was exhausted as hell - and with baby Neal at home he wasn't likely to get a lot of rest anyway.

She buried herself in her work, trying to get through as much as possible before -

"Ready love?"

 _Crap._

And there was Killian Jones, Mr. Sex on a Stick, leaning against the door frame - all black leather and temptation, grinning at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth seeing.

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, if she could just get through this last set, then they could get out of here for their date. It'd been far too long, and when he suggested an evening out - just the two of them, she found herself agreeing so quickly it was comical.

But, here she was, still at work.

"Almost. Can you give me another 5 minutes?"

She noticed the way his smile faltered almost imperceptibly - in fact, it's unlikely anyone other than her would've missed it.

"If the lady insists," he bowed dramatically - which made Emma snort in a distinctly unladylike way, and in turn made him smile in earnest.

"You can stick around if you want," she gestured to David's empty chair at his desk just outside her office.

He nodded his head in understanding and walked over to the desk, hiking up his pants by grabbing at the material around mid-thigh before sitting down. The chair rolled a little on the smooth laminate flooring underneath him, which made him jump a bit in surprise.

It's not that he'd never encountered one of these chairs before - but he still wasn't exactly used to the way they moved around. This one seemed worse though. He wiggled his hips a little as he noticed that it didn't just move around on the ground, the seat itself twisted.

Emma peeked up from her paperwork just in time to see him wriggling his hips in the chair - the site distracting her thoroughly. She bit her lip and swallowed a groan - squirming a bit in her own chair to chase away the sudden urge she felt to join him.

He broke into a childlike grin at this new sensation - propping his boots up on the plastic legs of the chair before gripping the desk in front of him and pushing himself from side to side. Then he stuck his legs out in front of him and pushed off the desk a bit harder, twirling himself in a half-circle before his legs hit the other side of the desk.

That's when he got the idea to tuck his legs up underneath himself, so he could go all the way around without stopping.

Emma watched as he stood up - his back still to her - hiking up his pants a little by grabbing the material mid-thigh, before sitting cross-legged in the chair. She had to stifle a laugh at the bloodthirsty pirate Captain Hook, acting like a 4 year old - enchanted by this stupid desk chair.

He once again gripped the edge of the desk and pushed and pulled a few times in warmup before hurling himself into a full spin - the chair whirling around several times before starting to slow under the weight of him.

He was giggling uncontrollably - loving the pull of his momentum and the swirl of color dancing across his eyes. He didn't even try to keep focus on anything. Half the fun was feeling like he was flying a million miles an hour.

As he started to slow down again he tried to focus on finding the edge of the desk, managing to grip it quickly and launch himself into another set of spins.

He looked so damn happy. She was almost overcome by the simple joy he found in this small wonder. Her heart swelled as she thought about how close they'd come to really losing him. She shook the thought away and decided she'd done enough paperwork for one day - quickly closing the distance between herself and her Whirling Dervish of a boyfriend.

He'd closed his eyes, still spinning in tight loops - just enjoying the sway, it was almost like that of the waves when the sea was raging angrily.

But then it stopped suddenly - his eyes popped open. The chair had stopped spinning, but it seemed the world continued, and he struggled to sit upright as the world slowly came into focus.

"Swan?" He blinked up at her - finally able to find her features as his vision cleared.

Her eyes were alight with a fiery passion, though he couldn't imagine what had inspired such a change in her. He didn't have much time to think about that though, as her lips crashed into his - swallowing his gasp of surprise as she set her knees on either side of his, sitting in his lap.

He groaned at the contact - twitching to life underneath her as she moved above him. He was drowning in the feeling of her hands on him - at the back of his head, twirling his dark hair between her fingers, holding him exactly where she wanted.

She broke the kiss - her lips swollen, cheeks flushed, looking down at him as if he were her entire world.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that about, darling?" He cooed, rubbing circles on her thigh as she pulled her hair over one shoulder.

"You." She said simply. "It's just… you."

"Quite the wordsmith there, Swan." He teased.

"Shut up," she ground her hips into him playfully - earning a hiss from him. "It's just that - after so much pain, and so much hurt, seeing you here - twirling around like an idiot-"

"Oi!" He feigned injury, "You wound me, Swan."

She chuckled at his indignance. "You know what I mean. You look so young like that - without a care in the world, after… everything."

Their verbal sparring was paused for a moment while he acknowledged the gravity and truth of her statement. He gazed into her eyes - pouring every ounce of love into her before gently pulling his forehead to hers. He breathed in her sweet vanilla scent - allowing his eyelids to fall closed before whispering his response.

"Aye love. I know what you mean."

Their emotions crested and fell at the same time - the tender moment they'd shared had passed, and she was ready to resume their game in full force, leaning back and tugging at his chin to pull his impossibly blue eyes to hers.

"Maybe I just liked that little hip move you did in this chair," she teased him again - loving the way his adoring expression turned wicked as he quirked an unruly eyebrow at her, lips twisted into a smirk at her jest.

"Hmm," he mused. "You mean like this?" He emphasized the final word as he pushed his hips into her in a tight circle, the chair twisting with him.

The pressure and pleasure of his generous length hot and heavy between her legs made her knees slip a little further apart - catching her off-guard.

"God, yes," she moaned - the seam of her jeans giving the delicious friction exactly where she needed it. He throbbed under her at her needy tone - the way her head fell backward with the words, hair spilling across her back in glorious golden waves turning him on impossibly further.

"Fuck, Swan…" he wouldn't be able to control himself unless she got off him. Now. "We have to stop, love," he pleaded half-heartedly, his hips still rutting up lightly as she moved in his lap.

She whined before bringing her eyes to his again - the glint of mischief shining in them as she brought her feet to the floor, stepping backward a few paces before turning heel and jogging down the hallway.

He sat in stunned silence for a moment before figuring he should probably follow her. He'd only just gotten to her feet before he heard her light footsteps coming back down the hallway. She slid through the office door, pulling it closed behind her and flipping the lock.

He gulped as the lock clicked into place - understanding now that she hadn't run away to get out of here - she was locking the main door, she was locking this door…

Her eyes caught his in a question, "Where do you think you're going, Captain?" She stalked toward him - letting her hips sway tantalizingly.

He could do nothing but stare as she continued walking toward him, pulling her leather jacket off and tossing it in heap on the floor behind her. She kicked off her boots in much the same way before she got to him.

He walked back a step as she approached him, the back of his heel hitting one of the wheels of the desk chair he'd been so enamored with. She stepped forward and reached around him to catch the back of the chair, pulling it toward them until the edge of the seat nudged at the back of his legs, prompting him to fall back into it with a huff.

"That's better." She said coyly. "Turnabout's fair play, Captain. You teased me with those hips," she toyed with the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head, leaving her in just her jeans and bra in front of him, "so now it's my turn to tease you."

He licked his lips and pulled his own jacket off, it was suddenly far too warm in here, but never taking his eyes off of her.

She popped the button on her jeans, dipping her hand beneath them for a brief moment - and Killian's fingers itched to feel the warmth and wetness her nimble hand must've encountered. He was painfully hard, but he wanted nothing more than to make her fall apart with his hand and his tongue.

She sighed as she swayed her hips, pulling the material down her legs - revealing her creamy pale skin and a pair of black lace panties that had his heart racing in a way he was certain he'd never feel again.

He was practically panting and she hadn't even touched him yet. She continued to move in front of him, like she was dancing to some invisible tune wafting through the air. It was mesmerizing. He hadn't even noticed his own hand rubbing at himself through the thick fabric of his jeans in search of some relief.

She was inching toward him as she drew lazy circles with her hips, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders and holding it out to the side dramatically before dropping it to the floor.

It was a siren's song - but he could nothing but be pulled in, and he didn't give a damn about trying to fight it. She was impossible. She was glorious. She was his everything.

He couldn't stand it any longer, pressing his back into the chair as he popped the button on his own jeans and lifted his hips up just enough to shove the pants and his briefs down his legs. He hadn't even taken his shoes off - so they sat there crumpled at his feet, like cotton shackles.

Her eyes widened at the site of him at full attention, unable to keep from touching himself at her show. It made her blood hum with anticipation as a rush of wetness reached her core.

She closed the distance between them, leaning over him slightly as she started working the buttons of his vest and the shirt beneath. They worked in silence, the air full of electricity and the sounds of their heavy breathing as they raced to get his shoes and pants off as well.

Their task accomplished she stepped back a moment and turned her back to him, hooking her thumbs underneath the black lace still covering her. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she stuck her ass out and bent over, pulling the material down as she went. His sharp intake of breath let her know her trick paid off. But she turned around anyway to watch him bring his palm to his mouth - licking a lascivious strip up it before bringing it down to his throbbing arousal - working himself over a few times.

"Seven hells, lass - get over here," he practically begged as he stroked himself.

That's what did her in, seeing him in that damn swivel chair, legs spread wide, tongue peeking out as he moved his hand expertly over his cock in a practiced rhythm - two long strokes from base to tip, three short ones just over that ridge at the head, then back down. She was getting dizzy watching it. No more teasing.

Silently praising whoever decided they needed office chairs WITHOUT armrests, spread her legs wide enough to place one foot on either side of the chair. She sat back on his thighs, closer to his knees than where he really wanted her - but the view was incomparable.

He could only break his eyes away from hers to look down at her spread out in front of him, his hand stilling on himself and tentatively switching targets - easing up her thigh until he reached her sopping center. He dragged his fingers through her folds, going deliciously slowly as he rolled into his touch.

"Fuck, love, you're bloody soaked," his accent was thick, his voice low as he began exploring her in earnest, fingers inching into her welcoming warmth slowly, twisting and dragging back out.

She shuddered in his arms as he continued his torturously slow movements - pulling every possible ounce of pleasure from her as the tendrils of her building desire rolled up her spine.

Watching her move against his fingers was stealing his breath. His hips still rutting up uselessly, suddenly aware of the coolness of the air on his hot skin. As much as he would love to keep her on the edge like this for eternity, he didn't think he could wait much longer before he just had to be buried inside her.

Luckily, it seemed she felt the same way. She started riding his fingers, chasing her pleasure, leaning forward into him, her face buried into his neck, his lips teasing her shoulder with gentle kisses and then a playful bite - shaking her from her haze of lust.

"Killian, please," she said breathily into the shell of his ear. "Not like this."

He knew exactly what she meant, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his mouth - maintaining eye contact while he sucked them into his mouth, licking them clean. She would swear her heart stopped in her chest - he was so devastatingly sexy.

She grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled herself further up into his lap, tilting her hips up to perch herself right over him. His breath was shallow, just waiting in rapturous agony as she shifted so that her feet could touch the floor again, dragging the head of his cock through her folds as she settled onto her feet to get a better position.

It nearly killed him to let her take her time, but he bit his lip (hard enough to bleed) and let her lead as she started to slowly sink down - relishing every silky inch of him as he slid into her until they were skin to skin.

They both sighed in relief - the feeling of fullness washing over her, that warm homey feeling rolling through him. He could feel himself pushing at the edge of her walls, almost too deep in this position - the thought sending shockwaves through his body - making him feel like he was hanging onto sanity by a fraying thread.

He let her adjust for just another moment, before getting an idea. His feet were firmly planted on the floor, and he pushed up onto his toes with his right foot, shifting his hips - and the chair - sideways.

Emma yelped at the feeling of him shifting like while being seated fully inside her - it was overwhelming, and almost painful, really - she could feel every long inch of him.

"Too much?" He asked between panting breaths - the concern tinging the edges of his voice made her swoon.

"I can handle it," she challenged, sitting up a little straighter in his hold.

He grinned wolfishly before repeating the move with his left foot, but this time she rolled into it - making stars pop behind Killian's eyes. He kept at it, bouncing them from side to side like that until she started grinding into him even harder. He knew she was close, and thank god for that, because he could come any second - and he wasn't one to leave a woman unsatisfied.

"Killian," she whined, rolling her hips into his as he gripped her hip tight enough to bruise. "So close, so fucking close…"

He started thrusting up into her with all his strength, the room filled with their harsh breaths and the constant slap of their skin as he rutted into her over and over, their rhythm in perfect time.

"Gods, love…" his eyes closed for a moment as he gave himself over to the incredible feeling of her so tightly wrapped around him. When they reopened it was with renewed purpose, "Love the feeling of you like this, riding me, taking what you want."

He brought his hand between them, rubbing furiously at her clit, knowing it would do her in. In a matter of moments she was in the throes of her ecstasy - hot white sparks shooting through her body, clenching around him so tightly that he couldn't hold back any longer.

His hand continued to ease her through her orgasm as he thrust up into her once more before he felt himself stutter - his release shooting through him harder than he could ever remember. He kept his hips flush with hers as he pulsed deeply inside her. She could swear she could feel the way he coated her walls - could feel the jet of his seed hitting the inside of her.

She slumped down further as they caught their breath, and once their heart rates had slowed enough that they weren't in danger of having a heart attack, she slowly slid backward - allowing him to slip out of her as she scooted back enough to stand up.

He looked utterly wrecked. His arms hung uselessly at his sides, an exhausted but sated smile on his lips while she started to get dressed.

When she tossed his clothes at him he started to get dressed as well. Looking back at the chair (now with a fairly obvious stain that any adult would recognize and cringe at).

"Looks like we owe your father a new chair, love." He laughed. "And maybe we should get one for the house while we're at it."

When David came in on Monday morning asking about this brand new desk chair, Emma blushed furiously and mumbled something about ergonomics, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions.


	7. Cancer Fighting Fic 2: Neverland

The oppressive heat and humidity of Neverland made it feel like her brain was cooking in her skull. She was exhausted and somehow still wired and frantic feeling - desperate to find her son before something happened to him.

She knew nothing about Peter Pan, except that both Rumpelstiltskin and Hook agreed that he was one of the worst people they'd ever encountered. That made her skin itch - the fact that the two of them agreed on anything was strange enough - but she didn't like that it was over the ruthlessness of the kid holding her son hostage.

Then there was the underlying tension between her and Hook after his admission in the echo cave. She couldn't place it, but there had been something between them ever since the beanstalk. A shiver ran up her spine at the memory of him bandaging her hand, using his teeth to pull the material of the scarf tightly around her injured palm. The site of his vibrant blue eyes peering up at her through those long dark lashes had her heart constricting like it was being bound with the black fabric rather than her hand.

"All right there, love?"

His accented voice shook her from the recollection, his brow furrowed with worry.

"Yeah. Fine." She said shortly, turning to start collecting some vines for them to fashion some makeshift rope.

"Here, let me help," he joined her efforts, both working their way closer toward each other as they went. She could feel his eyes on her as they moved. She wanted to be annoyed by it, but she just… wasn't. There was something stirring inside her that made her want to find out more about him, to not just write him off as an innuendo-flinging cad.

She'd wandered a touch further from the camp than she should have, her introspection pulling her away. She huffed as she tried to pull at this particular vine giving her some trouble. She just wanted to finish gathering this one and then she'd head back.

She gave it another tug and heard some rustling in the bush just ahead of her. Her heart started to race - OK. This was a bad idea. Just hurry it up and get out of here.

With a final determined pull she yanked roughly on the vine, earning a yelp and a "bloody hell!" From the figure in black that came tumbling out of the bushes.

After doing a sort of somersault Hook had landed flat on his back, the other end of the vine Emma had been so vehemently tugging still wrapped around his hook. He blinked up at her, catching his breath - the small bit of it that remained after his fall immediately left him at seeing the beautiful and fierce determination on her features.

She was truly something to behold.

Her mouth hung open in surprise - another few seconds passing before she realized what had happened.

"Shit! Are you okay?" She knelt down next to him, now slightly stunned not just that she'd apparently flung a full grown man to the forest floor, but at how incredibly handsome he was - even in his slightly disheveled state. The graceful arch of his high cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the dark stubble on his chin graced with just the slightest dusting of red hair in his beard. How odd, she mused. She'd never noticed that before.

"Not sure, love," he responded. "With you standing over me like that, looking at me the way you are, I'm inclined to believe I hit my head fairly hard and somehow landed in Heaven."

She chuckled at his comments.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but you're not in Heaven," she started looking him over for any injuries.

"I beg to differ, lass." He retorted, starting to try to push himself up.

"Woah, woah, woah," she pushed her hand to his chest to keep him in place and he could swear she'd be able to feel the way it hammered under her touch. "Take it easy there. Let me check you out for a second, make sure you're not hurt."

"You can check me out any time, Swan - no need to use the fall as an excuse," he raised an eyebrow at her and tried to laugh a little, but found a sharp pain in his side, wincing instead.

Her hands moved to his sides, pressing lightly to gauge his reactions until she found the spot that made him hiss and jump. She ignored the light buzzing in her fingertips and the way her mind wandered at the feeling of his toned muscles underneath her hands.

"Doesn't seem broken, but you probably bruised a rib there," she offers her hand to help him up, but he waves it away, determined to do it on his own.

He grimaces as he does it, but he makes it up alright - only to start to feel a bit woozy. He swayed on his feet - apparently that fall was worse than he thought, either that or she just has that effect on him. He really would believe either one.

She could see the color drain from his face as he stood, clearly a little lightheaded, and he stumbled a bit. She moved to steady him, her hand catching his back and his shoulder, carefully avoiding the bruised rib.

They were face to face, inches apart. The air between them electric as they stared at each other, his blue eyes searching hers to see if she felt it too. The way her breathing turned shallow told him to have hope.

"Killian…" she said softly, barely a whisper as she took him in - soaking up all the admiration in his eyes. "About what you said… in the caves… "

He swallowed thickly, praying to the Gods that this wasn't the moment she told him she didn't feel that way about him. The self-loathing side of him was screaming at him that there was no other way for this to end. He was nothing but a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. But the way her body reacted to his… she had to feel it, too.

"Yes, love?" He was practically begging her to continue.

"I.." her eyes flitted down to his lips and she realized actions speak louder than words - and she had no idea what to say anyway.

She rocked up onto her toes, pulling his shoulder lightly to bring them those few inches closer, her lips crashing into his - swallowing his grunt of surprise as she swept her tongue at his bottom lip, asking for entrance.

He obliged her immediately, his own tongue pushing back against hers with equal passion. Their kiss an incredible push and pull, a give and take that left them both breathless. Her lips felt like the softest of rose petals and she tasted like vanilla and spices - it reminded him of the finest rum he'd ever had (which he stole from a royal ship, of course.)

She was intoxicating, and he didn't know how long she was going to let him continue, so he savored every swipe of her tongue, every nip of her teeth on his lip, the way her delicate hands pulled at his shoulder in the most amazingly needy way.

She pulled back, breaking the kiss but still holding him just as tightly. Her eyes closed, her lips quirked into the slightest smile as she caught her breath, only a few inches from his face. He wanted nothing than to pull her into another searing kiss, but he knew the best course of action was to give her space - so he let her lead.

Her eyes slowly opened and she took a deep breath.

"Well, it seems everything is ship shape, captain. Best be getting back." She tossed another smile over her shoulder as she gathered up her vines and headed back toward camp.

She gave him hope back at the beanstalk, but this - this is when he knew he was desperately and irrevocably in love with Miss Emma Swan.


	8. Cancer Fighting Fic 3: Solo Act

She was working at the station, and Killian couldn't bring himself to be too upset about that.

They had taken a lot of time to themselves when they finally found a way out of the Underworld, and were safely at home. After about a week they'd found a new home together by the docks (and it only took them a couple days to "christen" pretty much every surface in it.)

David had insisted for another two weeks that he could handle everything at the station - trying to give them even more time to settle in at home. But after a while, Emma started feeling restless. She wanted to be helpful.

So she went back to work, just half days at first, but before long she was working full time again. She'd been back in the swing of things for about a week - Killian had caught up with pretty much all the maintenance he needed to do on the Jolly, and found himself a bit… well, lonely.

That's how he found himself wandering back toward the docks, with no particular task in mind, walking the familiar steps down to the Captain's quarters. As the planks creaked beneath his boots a small smile teased at his lips - there was just something about being here that made him so impossibly happy, despite the many decades of deeds he wasn't proud of - the Jolly was still an undeniably large part of him.

The cabin had been tidied up last week, everything in it's proper place. He breathed in the singular smell of the sea, the wood, the old paper in the books lining the shelves. His fingers danced across the spines of several of the volumes, coming across one that didn't quite fit in - but he recognized it immediately.

It wasn't some epic classic tale of adventure, some reference book for navigation - it was one of his captain's logs from long ago. He pulled it from the shelf and walked toward the bed, kicking off his boots and laying back on the soft blanket as he flicked through the pages.

Most of the notes were about their heading, the state of their supplies, issues raised by the crew. But from time to time there were slightly more personal descriptions - a particularly impressive haul, a sketch of the landscape he'd come to admire, beautiful sights he'd encountered - like women being carried on jeweled chairs while the air swirled with heady spices.

His fingers stilled and his heart froze on one, very special, page. This was much more like a diary entry than many of the others, which he rarely ever did. His lips twitched up into a smile as he read:

 _The men were in need of a respite, as was I. We've been without the company of anyone but ourselves for far too long, which always makes the crew less than pleasant - on account of which we found ourselves on solid ground and in need of drink and entertainment. There was a tavern not far from the docs and after several rounds of drinks and dice the men had mostly scattered to find their various amusements for the evening. I don't recall as much as I should, a rare instance of rum getting the better of me, I suppose. But what I can recall is so splendid I felt the need to memorialize it, even if it was naught but a glorious dream caused by my overindulgence. There was a woman, a blonde. She was all challenging fire and spirit, the fiercest creature I've ever seen - and certainly the most exquisitely beautiful. She knew me, understood me in a way I could scarce hope for in real life - which leads me to believe she was, in fact, a figment of my imagination. The memory is fading already, her image slipping through my fingers even as I grasp desperately at it. Whoever she is, she will both haunt me and comfort me for all my days._

He ran his fingers over the raised edges of the dried ink - smiling to himself at the description. He knew now that it must've been when he and Emma had gone back in time, when he walked in on her kissing his former self with a passion he'd been hysterically jealous of.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to swim through the memory, the surge of petty possessiveness that overtook him seeing her lips fused with his. It's such a silly thing, to be jealous of himself, but really that man wasn't him - certainly not anymore. But his body betrayed him, twitching to life as he watched them kissing in this very cabin in his mind's eye.

He groaned at the tightness in his jeans. They'd expected that after a few weeks being back (and after fully indulging in their desires), their constant need for each other would die down. And yet here he was, hard in an instant just picturing her. He thought for a moment that maybe he could surprise her at the office - it was nearly lunch time after all - and sneak in a quickie in the bathroom at Granny's, but thought better of it. The lady Lucas had already taken to glaring at him every time he picked up Emma's lunch or coffee because of the last time - wolf hearing and all that.

It'd been awhile since he had to resort to taking care of things himself, but as he popped the button and pulled down the zipper on his jeans, he chuckled to himself at the thought of just how many times he's done this in this cabin over the years. Far too many times to count, surely.

He slid the material down his toned legs, kicking it aside and toeing off his socks while he tugged his grey t-shirt over his head - mussing his hair slightly as it came off and fell to the ground. The cool air chilled his body slightly, now that he wasn't wearing a scrap of clothing, but he opted to stay atop the covers, liking the contrast it created with his overheated skin.

His hand slipped down between his legs, finding his generous length at attention and giving it a few gentle strokes - closing his eyes and picturing his Swan in a few of the more _adventurous_ positions they'd found themselves in lately.

His eyes slid open as he realized his hand was far too dry for this to be right. He swung his legs over to the edge of the bed and stood up, walking briskly over to the small cabinet in the other corner of the room, all the while keeping his grip around himself, hand moving at a lazy pace as he fished out a small tub of vanilla-scented ointment he'd kept for years for just this kind of occasion.

Actually, he smirked to himself, it smelled of Emma - something he wouldn't have known when he bought it all those years ago, but it seems fitting now. He scooped a bit out and returned to the bed, sighing at the silky sensation it created. It wasn't quite like her, but it was close enough.

He leaned back again, picking up where he'd left off, with long languid strokes from base to tip, twisting his hand slightly as he reached that sensitive ridge at his head. His tongue peeked out to swipe across his lips as his mouth ran dry, the Emma of his mind was standing before him in a pair of those amazing black heels, long legs deliciously on display, and a pair of black lace panties that could hardly be called undergarments. The bra was a matching black lace, and his eyes trailed across her breasts, hitching on that tiny freckle he loved to nip at, he bit his lip absentmindedly as if his mouth were actually there.

She smirked at him and turned around, pretending to pick something up - toying with him in the most delectably torturous way. His pace increased and his hips started to push upward into his hand to meet its movements. Pangs of electric desire raced through his veins as she swayed toward him again, her pupils blown wide with want.

"Emma" he breathed out, a prayer of her name wafting through the cabin as he furrowed his brow in concentration - his release just moments away, tingling at the base of his spine in urgent warning. He wanted to stay like this forever, drowning in the exquisite rapture only she could bring him, he'd never felt so alive and so adrift at the same time. The sensations were so intense it was like she was actually there, like she was the one moving over him, like he was seated deeply within her rather than throbbing needily in his own grip.

He imagined her sitting on top of him, riding him hard, chasing her pleasure - her long locks draped elegantly over her shoulder as her mouth opened into a silent scream while her orgasm overtook her, flooding her senses. The image cause him to tense up in that tell-tale way, his balls tightening up, his abs tensing - the outline of his muscles deepening as they flexed. The noise he made was somewhere between a growl and a whine as his cock spasmed and pulsed, shooting rope after rope of his seed across his own stomach and chest.

He had nearly passed out from the intensity of his release, which was now drying rather uncomfortably on his toned chest. He finally managed to get up, quickening his pace as it felt it start to drip down his skin before grabbing a nearby towel, dunking it in the water basin and cleaning himself up - chuckling to himself that his Swan could reduce him to this with just a mere memory.

Later that day, when she was finally off from work, Emma nearly attacked him as soon as she was in the house. He didn't bother asking what had her so turned on, because frankly he didn't give a damn. But afterward, as they were both lying on the floor of their living room, sated and boneless, she mentioned that ever since she started work again, she'd been spying on him with a bit of mirror magic. His eyes went wide with realization.

"You put on quite the show there, pirate." She laughed, snuggling closer into his chest, her fingers toying with the crisp hairs scattered there.

"Liked that, did you? Little voyeuristic princess," he teased back before the both devolved into a giggle fit.


	9. CancerFighting Fic4: Smuffy Lt Duckling

"Pleeeeaasseee, dad?" Emma tried her best to temper her face into the most innocent puppy-dog eyes should could possibly muster - knowing his resolve was hanging by a thread.

Though she was fully 19, David would swear in that instant she was six years old again, begging to go horseback riding with him. She had always been his passionate little spit-fire of a princess. She didn't take no for an answer then, and she didn't complain once when she fell from the horse and broke her leg - tough as hell. It was painful to know she was hurting, but he felt a surge of pride at her strength.

Now, as she looked up at him with those big green eyes, alight with hope for a new adventure - he couldn't say no, despite the obvious fact that a beautiful 19-year-old Princess on a naval ship was asking for trouble. The truth is, he could never deny her anything. He sighed heavily, wrapping his arm around her - and Emma smiled triumphantly.

"Just be sure to tell you mother I fought you on this, alright?"

* * *

Everything was nearly ready, but there were always a few last minute preparations that slipped through the cracks - and that's what kept Killian Jones running about, trying desperately to keep up with the tasks his Captain (and his older brother, Liam) was shouting at him.

He wanted nothing more than to make his Captain proud, and so he moved faster and worked harder than anyone else on the ship. He'd had a rough go of it after their father left. He'd sold his two sons into servitude to buy himself a boat to escape after hearing the sheriff was on his way to arrest him for some trouble he'd caused a while back.

The abandonment and hard living had only strengthened Liam's resolve to care for the both of them - taking on the responsibility of looking after his younger brother. Killian on the other hand, he quickly turned to sullen, angry thoughts and long nights with a bottle of rum. They'd worked hard to squirrel away everything they earned, Killian nonetheless losing his share to his poor judgment and gambling habit more than once.

But Liam's dedication to his brother never wavered. And when they finally had enough money to buy themselves out of their contract, they worked in a nearby tavern for just long enough to earn a commission into the royal navy - both of them rising in the ranks shockingly quickly due to their incomparable work ethics. His brother's steadfast support through his numerous failings had made Killian all the more eager to finally prove himself worthy.

"Lieutenant!" Liam barked at him, "Get that crate below!"

"Aye-aye, Captain" Killian responded dutifully, bending to lift the supplies - finding the crate a bit too large for him to carry easily. It's not that it was too heavy, Killian was quite strong, all lean muscle - if still a bit lanky. In fact, his brother often teased that he looked like a teenage puppy - all limbs and floppy feet, to which Killian was always bit back that he was no teenager, and he'd prove it with his fists if need be. He'd recently turned 21, and though he'd done a decent job of taming the wilder aspects of his personality, he could still be volatile if pushed hard enough.

The crate in his arms was blocking his line of sight, but he knew the ship like the back of his hand, and he moved assuredly down the steps, recalling that loose plank (and cursing himself for not fixing it earlier that day) and springing to the left to narrowly avoid twisting his ankle on it.

He did, however, seem to collide with something else - feeling the crate crash into a soft object on the other side, followed by a feminine yelp. He rolled his eyes, assuming it was Smee (that man was a drama queen) but dropped the crate all the same, prepared to tease him about his girlish squeal.

As it turns out, it wasn't Smee that he'd run into. He stepped around the crate and his eyes found the hem of a petticoat peeking out from under a simple forget-me-not blue dress. He followed the slim form upward, his breath hitching at the gently curved waistline, a pair of delicate hands haughtily stuck on her hips, golden yellow hair tied into a braid that was pulled over her shoulder, eyes vibrantly green (the color of the forest after a rainstorm, he mused) and tinged with a fierceness he was drawn to in the most inexplicable way.

Though, as he insisted, he wasn't a teenager anymore, his hormones didn't seem to get the message. Staring intently at this drop-dead gorgeous siren standing in front of him had lit his veins ablaze as if he was a young man only just now discovering the effect a beautiful woman can have on his body. He had no idea what business she had on the ship, but he desperately wanted to find out.

* * *

She was stepping up onto the deck, eyes darting about, heart racing with excitement to see the flurry of activity aboard the ship. Her father told her to wait for him, but she couldn't contain her enthusiasm, and she'd snuck out a bit earlier, sending word with one of the servants that she'd just meet him aboard the Jewel of the Realm - the kingdom's flagship vessel, and the one they'd be taking for their journey. She'd barely been aboard for two seconds before she was smacked in the shoulder and side by a gigantic walking… crate.

She yelped more in surprise than in pain, and she was slightly embarrassed - not wanting to seem like a coddled little princess during their trip. Frowning to herself, she realized she was already off to a bad start. But that wasn't really her fault - it was mostly the fault of the idiot who hadn't been watching where they were going. Though she was poised to curse out the sailor who'd smacked into her so roughly - all thoughts flew away as she saw the culprit.

He was in crisp white slacks, only slightly marked from the tasks he'd clearly been so involved in, there was a cutlass at his hip, the dark blue jacket of his uniform slightly large on him, making him look a little younger than his lean and muscular frame seemed. She deduced that he had to be in his early twenties, the barest hint of stubble showing on his chin and jawline, blue eyes shining back at her in shock, his hair a bit disheveled - despite what appeared to be his best efforts to tame it.

He was devastatingly handsome, and she couldn't help but take an extra moment to appreciate it. She didn't have much opportunity to see many men her age in the castle, save for a few of the male servants. Sure, her parents had trotted out a few princes over the years, but none of them interested her. This man, on the other hand... Her mouth hung open as her snappy chastising remark died on her lips.

"I'm so sorry, lass! Did I hurt you?" He looked her over for any signs of injury, and she found herself squirming a little under his gaze.

"I'm fine, but you should really be more careful." She squared her shoulders and stuck her chin up a little as she spoke, trying to take on an authoritative air. He broke into a grin at that, which only made her chest slump a little in annoyance.

"Well it appears I'm not the only one who should be more careful, love." He quipped back, eyes glinting flirtatiously. "What are you doing up here anyway? I thought the sirens called to us blaggards from the rocks below, not the decks. Are you lost?"

She was taken aback at his frankness. Nobody had ever treated her like that in her entire life - like a normal person, not a princess. She should be upset by it, but she mostly found herself curious at this brash young man with such captivating eyes.

"Do you always speak to royalty so bluntly?" She challenged - pleased at the way his skin paled.

His mouth ran dry at her words. _Royalty?_ He mentally flipped through the announcements Liam had made about their journey - they were traveling to Arendelle with King David where they would stay for two weeks. Nothing was ever mentioned about a woman accompanying them.

Liam's panicked voice broke the silence.

"Princess Emma! We weren't expecting you just yet. I apologize for the chaos, and for the Lieutenant's rudeness." He said pointedly to Killian, nodding to the neglected crate at his side.

"Right. Sincerest apologies, Princess." He bowed curtly and picked the box up again, moving swiftly down to stow it away - his heart hammering in his chest. He blamed the exertion, but deep down he knew better.

* * *

After a thorough tongue-lashing from his captain, Killian had found himself sequestered below deck for the time being. Liam was hopping mad and had matters to attend to with the King - going over the details of their journey. Liam was determined to make a good impression, and Killian's blunder had earned him a night on duty in the commissary.

He'd been peeling potatoes all evening in penance and cut himself a few times as he wandered into daydreams about the princess. She didn't carry herself like a princess - he laughed to himself that it was a silly thing to say, since he'd only ever met the one. She was all fire and fight - and he'd always imagined princesses to be… well, meek. Understated. Which she certainly was not.

By the end of the night he was utterly exhausted. The double shift of deckside prep work and kitchen duty left him absolutely drained. He shuffled through the halls of the ship toward his quarters. He was lucky enough to have a small space to himself - basically just enough room for a bed, a few drawers and a washbin - but it was quite a bit more than most of the crew got, and he was proud of it.

He heard another pair of feet down the way, but the gait was unfamiliar, which made him uneasy. After so many years at sea with the same crew, they'd come to know each other's snores, breathing and footfalls. This pair was foreign - too light to be the King or any of his servants. It had to be female - his pulse quickening at the possibility of it being her. He lifted his lantern a little - peering into the darkness until a figure came into view.

She was impossibly beautiful. Her hair had been released from its braid, now falling in gentle waves around her shoulders, his fingers twitching a little with an urge to run his fingers through the silky strands. Her eyes were wide and alert until they found his, and then they settled somewhere between pleased and confrontational.

"Lieutenant Jones, is it?" She called to him, and he found himself walking toward her, despite Liam protesting loudly in his mind.

"Yes, Princess. What can I do for you?" He tried to sound as professional as possible, but he felt like every nerve in his body was firing, like he had been electrified just by her presence.

To be perfectly honest, she had absolutely no reason to be talking to him. She had no reason to seek him out, except for that she couldn't get him out of her head. By all accounts, she should've forgotten him by now. A careless, albeit handsome, sailor who literally bumped into her. But there was something so intriguing about him - the way he treated her for that brief moment before he knew who she was. He didn't treat her with kid gloves, and she had really liked it. If she wasn't mistaken, he was even flirting with her a little - and she enjoyed that much more than she should have.

"Well, I've heard Captain Jones can be quite stern - and he seemed fairly upset about our little _incident_ on deck…" her eyes flicked down to his lips on the word, and he sucked in a harsh breath at the way she made it sound almost salacious.

She noted the way he got flustered at her choice of words, a blush spreading across his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. His gaze fell to the floor and he raised a hand to scratch awkwardly behind his ear. Though she was curious about the brash sailor she'd met earlier, she had to admit, this shy and reserved version of him was just as alluring.

"Aye, he was, Princess. But that's nothing to concern yourself with." He responded politely, trying to hide his embarrassment at both his poor behavior and the fact that she'd given him a second thought at all. There was something incredibly sad in that, something that hinted at lifelong struggle against melancholy that she imagined he was losing more often than not.

"I'll be the judge of that," she retorted, taking the final few steps to close the distance to close the distance between them, watching his chest rise and fall just a little bit faster as she approached.

"Now, what do you say we try this again. My name is Emma," she stuck her hand out for him to shake.

Yet again he found himself taken aback at her actions. She was so… forward. Lest he get grilled by Liam again he schooled his features and grasped her hand lightly, turning it until her palm faced the floor, he bowed and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

"It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Princess Emma. What can I do for you, milady?" He said breathlessly. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her - surprised at the sudden surge of desire in him for this woman he'd only just met. The way her pupils dilated told him that she felt much the same.

"Just Emma is fine, Lieutenant." He released her hand and she took a deep breath, her lips curling as the beginnings of a plan formed. "I met a man earlier, maybe you could help me find him."

His brow furrowed in confusion. An odd request to be sure.

"Of course, Princess. I know every man aboard this ship quite well. I'm certain I can help you with that." He nodded primly, weighing the possible implications of helping an unchaperoned princess find this mystery man before deciding that it would likely be worse to disobey her.

"Well, he was about your height and build," she cooed, running a finger along his arm as she spoke - relishing the way he tensed under her touch.

 _Is she flirting? She's definitely flirting. But she's a princess. Surely she can't be interested in you. And even if she was, you couldn't do a damn thing about it without being thrown overboard._ _Get it together, Jones._

"His eyes were the color of my dress," she looked down at her gown, which prompted him to do the same and he swallowed thickly as he took in her enticing figure - chastising himself as his eyes trailed hotly across every gentle curve.

"He's devilishly handsome," she continued staring into his eyes as she spoke. "He was a touch rude, to be honest, but I don't like it when people treat me like I'm made of glass anyway. I guess you could say I like things a little rougher."

She blushed furiously even as she said it. She told herself it was all about the game - getting him to break from his stilted "good soldier" routine and get back to the gruff sailor she'd met earlier. But she surprised even herself with her bluntness. She couldn't back down now, and to be perfectly honest, she longed for his touch with a desperation she'd never felt.

Throwing caution to the wind (she was the princess after all - that should come with some perks and leniencies), she decided to allow herself this indulgence. She licked her lips as she placed her hands on his chest, and leaned in dangerously close.

"Do you know him?" She said breathily, leaning up on her toes to whisper it into his ear.

He found himself shuddering to keep his composure, but he could feel the warmth rolling off of her in hot waves, her fingers splayed over his toned muscles, right over the place where his heart was thundering it's rapid beat. But it was like she'd cast a spell on him, everything turning hazy as his blood rushed south.

"I couldn't…" he gulped for air as she dragged her hands down to his waist, "begin to guess, Princess."

She smirked wickedly at that. "You couldn't? Well perhaps you need another clue."

She slid her hands under his jacket, pressing lightly as they roamed his sides and back around to the sensitive spot between the deep V of his lower ab muscles and his hips. Her hands were dangerously low and their stance was positively indecent. It would've been indecent even if they were alone in his quarters just a few steps away, but out here in the hallway - he'd surely be killed on the spot if anyone walked through. And yet he couldn't bring himself to stop her. She was a siren, meant to lure him to his death, and he didn't give a damn so long as she never stopped touching him like that.

"I hear he's the Captain's brother, and he always does what he's told," she teased him again - hoping this would be the final jab that would throw him into recklessness. And she was right, his resolve snapped with her final statement. If there was one thing Killian Jones hated, it was people telling him who he was - as if he wasn't his own man.

His eyes darkened to a deep shade of blue - that of the angry sea just before a storm.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Princess." He said sharply before reaching out to grab her by the waist, pulling her quickly but gracefully into his room mere feet away. She stumbled backward into the room, he'd all but tossed her in there, but she found she liked his sudden urgency - not just because she'd "won" her little game, but because the ferocity in his eyes now was the twin of the ferocity in her own.

He closed the door and locked it, turning back to her with a hungry gaze that sent a rush of wetness pooling between her thighs.

 _Good lord he's handsome._

He gripped her by the waist again, almost possessively as they stood next to his bed. Their faces just inches apart, they were both breathing heavily - but he just watched her. He was studying her face, searching for any hint of fear or regret, but he saw none. He waited just out reach - wanting her to make the decision to continue.

It only took another few seconds for her to reach up and grab him by the lapels, her lips crashing against his deliciously. It started so furiously, but with a deep breath their movements slowed into a passionate dance, his tongue swiping over her bottom lip, prompting her to open up to him, her tongue smoothing over his as he turned his head to deepen the kiss. They stayed that way for so long that when they finally broke apart they were dizzy.

"Princess, I…" he stuttered, not sure what he was going to say anyway.

"Please, Lieutenant..." She practically whined at him. But what was she saying? Did she really want… well, that? He couldn't possibly. She must know that. He held her close, pressing gentle kisses from her lips, up her jaw and neck and toward her ear.

"Tell me what you want, darling." He whispered hotly - emboldened by her obvious desire. He even rutted his hips into her a little, letting her feel everything she did to him. He was out of his mind for doing this, but she was the only thing that mattered in the world, and he would do whatever she asked.

"I can't… well, I can't…. You know," she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Aye, Princess. I know." His voice dropped low, tinged with disappointment - though he knew they couldn't go much further anyway. He loosened his grip on her and stepped back, swallowing hard to compose himself. She felt cold at the loss of him, an idea flashing brightly in her mind - though she wasn't sure he'd be willing to…

"You know, I've heard there's still something you could… well, we could… for eachother..." she'd started so boldly, but when it came to the actual words - she was quickly losing her courage.

There was an immediate sparkle in his eyes as he caught on to what she was saying. He took a step toward her again before stopping abruptly, his demeanor changing in an instant.

"Are you sure?" He looked deadly serious as he scanned her for any sign that she was wavering on her offer. She swallowed the lump in her throat before nodding to him - loving the way his stern features melted into a wolfish grin.

He leaned into her, bringing his hand around her back and turning her so she could lie on his bed. As she made herself comfortable on her back he peppered kisses to her forehead, her jaw, her neck - all the while situating himself above her in a way that had her blood boiling with arousal.

He didn't bother undressing her, he just continued pressing kisses to the tops of her breasts along the neckline of her dress, working his way slowly downward. Wriggling his hips to keep shifting his body lower as he kissed and nipped at the material over her ribs and stomach until his hands could reach the hem of her skirts.

His mouth never left her body as he pushed the material up, letting her reach down to bunch it in her fists and pull it further up, exposing her long, lean legs to him. He sunk even lower on the bed, his erection growing painful as the material of his pants strained and tented, but he ignored it - choosing instead to focus on bringing her pleasure.

He allowed his fingers to dance up her thighs, she was rolling into his touch, relishing the feel of his calloused hands on her delicate skin as they continued their path upward, finally reaching their goal. Beneath all the skirts she was bare to him, just a flimsy silk slip for undergarments, he groaned as his cock throbbed at the thought of her being like that all day.

She was writhing under his touch, desperate for him to bring his hands where she wanted him most, but he seemed too wrapped up to notice her impatience.

"Please," she whined, finally getting his attention. He tossed her a wicked grin before dipping his head down to press a kiss to the inside of each thigh before bringing his tongue to her soaking folds, licking a thick stripe up to her aching clit. She nearly screamed at the intensity of the feeling. She'd heard of being kissed there, but she had no idea it would feel like _that_. She had no idea anything could feel like that.

She could feel him chuckle smugly at her reaction, his lips still connected with her most sensitive spot as the reverberation rumbled through his chest and directly to her clit. It was an incredible feeling, and she moaned loudly and rolled her hips up into him, chasing the sensation.

At that he began to work her in earnest, bringing one hand to hold her hip possessively, the other with his fingers splayed over her lower stomach as his thumb worked her bundle of nerves in tight circles while his tongue continued to lap at her greedily.

She could feel the tendrils of her orgasm crawling up her body, threatening to pull her over the edge at any moment - and he could sense her impending release, every muscle tensing as that thread finally snapped within her. She bucked wildly under him, but he kept his pace, working her through her rapture as she cried out.

As she came down from her high he slid off of her, gently pulling her skirts back down to their proper place, smoothing the material where it was crinkled from her grip, smiling like an idiot as he went. It seemed strange, him being so… happy, when she could clearly see his neglected arousal still raging full-force.

The truth was, though - she had no idea how to help him and her lack of experience made her shy when it came to how to proceed. She supposed she could just leave, but she didn't want to. She wanted to make him feel what she just felt - elation, pure bliss.

He scratched that same spot behind his ear again, cheeks turning ruddy as the awkwardness of the moment settled in.

"Thank you for that," he tripped a bit on the words.

She laughed heartily, the wide smile making his heart feel so full it could burst - she truly was the most radiant creature he'd ever beheld.

"Shouldn't I be thanking you? That was incredible." She glanced down to his groin, and he suddenly felt exposed under her gaze. "I'd like to return the favor, I just… don't know what to do…"

"No reciprocation needed, Princess." He waved his hand at her dismissively. "This lowly sailor could die happy just having been allowed to taste you - and I'm afraid risking anything else might _actually_ get me killed."

They both laughed at that. The mood lightening considerably. She swung her tired legs over the edge of the bed, still a bit wobbly from her recent orgasm - but he helped steady her as she straightened out her dress and ran her fingers through her hair to tame it.

"Well, I suppose this is goodnight, Lieutenant," she said primly as she walked the few steps to the cabin door. He met her there, quickly peeking his head out to confirm the hallway was clear.

"I suppose so. Sweet dreams, Princess" he whispered softly into her ear. Snapping his door shut the moment she was through it and flopping unceremoniously onto his bed.

 _Did that really just happen?_

He expected to wake up from this glorious dream at any moment, but as the minutes ticked by he realized not only was this not a dream, but his erection was going absolutely nowhere without a little help. It only took a moment for him to slip out of his clothes, laying back on the sheets - still warm from where she'd just been. In fact, they even smelled like her - vanilla and cinnamon.

He closed his eyes and rolled to the side a little, taking in her lingering scent as he licked a stripe up his palm before bringing it down to his generous length. He started with slow and steady strokes, imagining it was her uncertain grip on him, rather than his own practiced hand. He shuddered at the mental image he conjured - her nervously biting her lip as she watched his reactions play across his face, her soft and delicate hands moving over his overheated skin, pumping him slowly.

Even fantasizing about the princess like this seemed wrong, but he couldn't help the images flashing in his mind's eye. She was a quick study, learning his rhythm in just a few minutes - leaning over him to press kisses to his stomach and his hipbones while her hand kept its pace. He could feel the heat of her breath so tantalizingly close to where he really wanted her - but even for his imagination that was too much to ask.

She could see the feral tint that clouded his eyes the closer she moved her mouth to his erection - but he was holding back, which made her stubborn streak flare up. She licked her lips determinedly before sliding her hand down to the base of him and pressing a kiss to his sensitive head. He yelped in surprise both in his daydream and in his cabin - throwing his hand to his mouth to stifle the noise.

His breathing was ragged and shallow, a light sheen of sweat had broken out all over his body as he worked himself while his imagination ran wild. He snapped his eyes shut quickly, trying to bring himself back to that lurid scene his mind created. In an instant he was there again, her jade eyes glinting mischievously as her tongue darted out to lick and rub against his hardened cock. She could feel his pulse throbbing under her tongue, encouraging her to close her lips around him, taking him all the way in and sucking as hard as she could manage.

He growled as his hips lifted from the bed, now slamming into his hand in a rapid pace as he started to lose control of himself. The Emma of his mind knew it wouldn't take much more to send him over the edge, and she had resolved to see him fall just as hard as she had - so she let him rock into her until she felt his tip brush the back of her throat, and then she swallowed.

The tenuous grip Killian had on his self control finally slipped as he imagined the warmth of her throat closing around him, squeezing in much the same way he imagined her orgasm would've if he could be inside her. His muscles tensed as bright lights burst behind his eyes - his orgasm taking over every sensation as his spurted thick jets of his release up his chest and stomach - unable to keep himself from muttering her name as he was coming.

His fingers slowly trailed up himself a few final times, spreading his sticky seed along his overly sensitive cock until he couldn't take it anymore. He could barely bring himself to get out of bed long enough to clean himself up, but once he had, he settled under the sheets for the best night of sleep he'd ever had (and some of the best dreams, too.)

This was going to be a _very_ enjoyable journey.


	10. Cancer Fighting Fic 5: Captain Killian

_A/N: For my darling Optomisticgirl. Here's her prompt: "Hmmm okay, so we all know how I am a slut for smut. And after Sunday's episode, I've gotta have some 'princess Emma sneaking away to a tavern and running into a leather clad sex God Killian' and 'things' ensue on his ship rather... Roughly? But in the good way." Serious rough smut ahoy. Ye've been warned._

She had to get out of here. She was bored out of her mind, and her parents were being their usual charming selves. Sometimes she felt like an awful daughter for being so.. Well, her. She was restless and fitful, and that's not to say that she didn't love her parents - she truly did. But sometimes it was all a bit much.

She knew that she had a fantastic life. She was literally a princess, after all. But as silly as it seemed, palace life had its pitfalls, and though she couldn't complain about it out loud without seeming like a brat, that didn't mean she couldn't feel that way. Her parents were unfailingly supportive, turning away suitor after suitor when Emma didn't show any interest.

There was a lingering disappointment, but not because she hadn't chosen any of the ponces who'd come out to make their pitch (some of whom were obviously only there at the request of their own eager parents) - Snow White and David simply wanted her to find what they had, true love.

It was infuriating, really. She couldn't explain why the idea made her so frustrated. She wanted that, too. She wanted someone to look at her the way her parents looked at each other, but it was an awful lot of pressure to put on someone. And for the moment, she'd settle for just feeling anything.

She needed to feel alive. She needed to get out of the palace walls - get outside, see the real world, see something beyond her padded little life with guards breathing down her neck.

"Emma?" Her mother's concerned tone pulled her from her thoughts - the worry in her eyes evident, even across their large table. "Are you OK?"

"Sorry, yeah - I just…" she shifted a little in her chair. "Actually, no. I'm not really feeling well. Would it be OK if I just went to bed?"

Her father looked at her suspiciously.

"Of course, dear. I'll have the kitchen bring you up some tea," Snow soothed, nodding to one of the nearby servants.

"Oh, no - please. I'm fine, really." Emma pleaded as she pushed back her chair and stood up. "I just want to turn in early."

She shuffled her way out of the dining hall before either of them could object any further - knowing her mom would send up tea anyway. As she made her way to her room, a plan began to form and by the time she had finished her tea (her mother may have been right about that part, it did help,) she had decided she'd find a way to sneak out for a few hours.

She'd done it before, a couple of times, in fact. Along the wall behind one of the taller hedges in their massive gardens there were a couple of bricks that stuck out further than they should, and she'd figured out that with a little effort she could catch her hands and feet on them and climb up over the wall.

She took nothing with her except a small coin purse (just enough to have some fun at a tavern), and pulled out an old servant's dress she'd snatched years ago. It still fit (mostly), but she did have to undo the laces at her chest a bit more than was decent - but she figured she was on the way to a tavern anyway, so it might even help her fit in more.

Along the corridor just outside her room she almost got caught by one of the servants, but luck was on her side, and she made it out to the familiar spot along the wall in no time. She slipped her shoes off, tying the laces together and tossing them over the wall, the climb was easier barefoot.

She took a deep breath, hitching up her skirts and lunging at the wall, her soft skin scratching at the cool brick as she pulled herself up. She had to jump a little to catch the last handhold, but she made it easily, and soon found herself sitting at the top of the wall, feet dangling over the edge as she breathed in the sweet evening air.

She held her breath as she pushed off the wall, her knees buckling as her feet hit the solid ground, sending her tumbling forward awkwardly- but unscathed. She picked up her shoes and tied them back on, her energy renewed with the excitement of a new adventure.

Her hands and dress were lightly marked with dirt, and she took a moment to rub her cheeks a bit, smearing it around just enough to take the shiny edge off of herself, hoping that would add to her disguise.

She stood up quickly, ready to go experience the real world - have a drink, maybe even get into some trouble. She figured she might get a few hours before someone would recognize her, and she wanted to make the most of them.

After a short walk she found herself by the docks, following the path of the marina until she spotted a lively looking tavern, warm light and laughter spilling easily from it's open windows. She pulled the door open and was immediately assaulted by the overwhelming smells of ale, dirt and sweat. She'd forgotten just how… dirty the outside world was, but she stepped through the hay littering the floor (no doubt there to sop up the wasted alcohol being splashed from goblets as men chattered and guffawed raucously.

There was a fair number of women as well, but those who weren't working as barmaids, shuttling drinks and plates of food to and fro, were either sitting in some patron's lap, or clearly wanted to be. She made her way to the bartender, putting on her most casual air before ordering a mead and settling in at a mostly empty table in the corner.

A young woman brought her drink over just a few moments later, not paying much attention, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief that she'd made it this far without being discovered. She sipped her drink and started to look around the room, a pair of men squabbling about some misremembered story, a group of men huddled in the corner - voices low and eyes darting around as if they were on lookout, expecting to get caught at any moment. She gulped down another swallow of mead, hoping she didn't look like that.

It was just at that moment that the door swung open harshly as a roar of laughter came from the group that entered. Emma's eyes immediately went to the man who appeared to be their leader - tall, dark and handsome, not to mention a bit dangerous looking.

He wore an easy smile, tight-fitting black leather trousers that hugged him in all the right places, a sword at his hip, a black shirt with long sleeves and an ornate red vest that cut a deep v into his broad chest - trailing down to show more than a hint of crisp chest hair. Her eyes couldn't help but follow the delicate curves of the floral pattern of the vest, she felt almost dizzy as she traced the curling lines downward to his trim waist.

She shook her head and took a long drink, trying her best not to stare at him. After all, she didn't really want to draw attention to herself. Her attention was pulled away regardless as a rather large (and frankly foul smelling) man at the table next to her tripped on his own feet trying to stand up - accidentally tossing his ale backward as he tried to steady himself, the majority of it splashing all over her chest and lap.

The man lumbered over to her, arms outstretched as he grumbled a half-hearted apology - that is until he saw her face. Something wicked sparked through the alcoholic daze that had settled in his eyes as his grunts turned to something closer to a coo.

"Lemme help ya there," he slurred as he pawed at her chest in a feigned attempt to "help." She swatted at him without thinking, desperate to get him to stop.

"I'm fine - please - just stop!" She couldn't get him off of her - he was so much larger and quite determined. But just then the man was pulled backward harshly.

"Leave the lady alone."

Emma's jaw dropped at the man in front of her - the very same one who was making her mouth water just a moment ago was here defending her. Despite the fact that he was quite a bit shorter than the brute who'd had his hands all over her, the larger man immediately started cowering.

"Of course, Captain - I… I don't want any trouble." He nearly tripped over his feet again in his haste to get away, and Emma felt herself quite relieved that the entire incident seemed to have passed without drawing too much more attention.

"You alright, lass?" The man (apparently a captain) said, grabbing two shots of rum from a barmaid walking by and set one in front of himself and the other in front of her.

With his brilliant blue eyes shining at her with concern she'd found it difficult to speak. She just sat in stunned silence for a few moments while he looked her over - not lewdly as the other man had, but tenderly, checking for any obvious signs of injury.

"I - uh…" she finally stammered. "Thank you."

His handsome features broke into a wide smile, and he nodded to the seat next to her.

"May I?"

She gulped while her mind warred with itself, wanting nothing more than to spend the night getting to know everything about this mysterious chivalrous captain, but recognizing that he was apparently very dangerous - if he could make that horrible man shrink in fear, she should probably be doing the same. And yet, she saw a glimmer of kindness behind the fearsome persona - so she tilted her head slightly in agreement.

Her eyes were glued to him as he swung one leg over the bench, one hand moving to his sword and repositioning it, the other pulling up the leather of his pants a little to allow him to straddle the bench and face her. She felt the tendrils of desire worming in her stomach uncomfortably as he rocked his hips forward to slide closer to her.

He just chuckled lowly at the way she had to tear her eyes from his hips, one eyebrow quirked knowingly as he grabbed his rum and held it up, urging her to do the same.

"A toast - that this stunning woman may enjoy the rest of her evening without further unwanted attention."

Emma simply smiled in response, watching as he tipped his head back and downed his rum. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and she could hardly breathe with the sudden wave of arousal that hit her. When she thought about sneaking out and having some fun, she'd originally imagined getting a few drinks, maybe even playing cards or dice, but with this man in front of her - she wanted to have an entirely different kind of fun. One that made her cheeks redden just thinking about it.

"You know, traditionally one takes their drink at the end of the toast." He teased, his eyes flitting down to her still untouched rum.

She cleared her throat, "Well then, another toast," she flagged down the barmaid and he picked up another rum. "That this, handsome captain," he grinned wolfishly at her compliment - pride blooming in his chest, "may enjoy the rest of his evening in whatever way he likes."

His eyebrows shot up at that - shocked that such a demure creature would make such a boldly flirtatious statement. Even Emma was a little surprised at herself, but she swallowed her embarrassment with her rum, letting the alcohol burn away any lingering anxiety, and he did the same.

As the drink sent a pleasant buzz through her body, she decided to just be someone else tonight. To let go of the pressures and worries of being the princess, and just be a woman. He looked at her quizzically, as if he was trying to solve some kind of puzzle, and she finally spoke up.

"That's quite the unusual uniform you're sporting, Captain." She reached out and ran a finger down the soft material of his vest - his hard muscle tensing further under her touch as his breath caught in his chest.

"One of the many benefits of answering to no crown." He stated simply.

"So it's true then?" She eyed him cautiously, her body already betraying her mind's built-in sense of danger.

"What's true, lass?"

"Well, the way that man reacted to you, and the clothes… That you're a…" She couldn't bring herself to say the word, not sure if it would cause offense if she happened to be wrong, which was not likely - but nonetheless.

"Pirate?" He supplied. "Aye. Captain Killian Jones, at your service ma'am." He grasped her hand lightly as he said it, pulling her knuckles to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there. Her heart skipped a beat at the site of him looking up at her through his dark lashes as his soft lips touched her skin.

He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent of vanilla and cinnamon. She was no ordinary woman, and though she'd clearly put on some disheveled clothes, Killian saw that she was hiding something. After all, pirates are known for having a way with finding hidden treasure - and she certainly was that.

"Well, Captain Jones, I must admit I know nothing of pirates except that they're generally disliked, and rather crude and rough."

He laughed at her description, running his hand through his thick dark hair.

"Aye, I suppose that's about right. We are generally disliked, and we can be a bit…" his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip in a way that sent a rush of wetness pooling between Emma's thighs, "rough. But I suspect that doesn't bother you as much as it should."

His voice had dropped quite low, his curious accent (which she couldn't quite place) getting even thicker as he spoke double entendres.

"And what makes you say that?" She challenged - knowing full well that he was right. In fact, just the thought of letting him ravish her in whatever way he wanted made her breathing shallow and her pulse race.

He leaned in even closer, and she could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You're an open book, love," he drawled.

"Is that right?" She tossed her response back to him indignantly. Not liking the thought that he deemed her so predictable - it's what made her so frustrated with palace life in the first place. Being caged in by responsibilities - all her choices made for her, no room for spontaneity, no room for life. "Go on then, if I'm such an open book to you."

He smirked at her challenge.

"First of all, you're here in disguise." He started. Her blood running cold at the thought that he might know who she really was. He might hold her for ransom, might kidnap her and sell her to her father's enemies. Her mind raced with all manner of unseemly possibilities, but was cut off when he continued. "I may not know who you really are, but I know that you have an fierce desire for independence, adventure. You don't like being told who you are. You don't like being told what you can handle."

He claimed he didn't know who she really was, and she had a penchant for being able to tell when someone was lying - he wasn't. But still, it unsettled her that he was right about so much. She tried to change the subject.

"Speaking of adventures, pirates are known to be well traveled. Seen anything particularly interesting on your travels?"

He glanced at her sideways, seeing her evasion, but letting it slide.

"Aye, lass. Plenty. But I have to admit, the views here are just as beautiful as any I've seen the world over. And though I've seen many wondrous things, there's not much that can compare to the company of a gorgeous woman or the comfort of my ship."

"I've never seen a pirate ship before…" She started, genuinely curious about what a pirate ship would look like. She'd seen the ships of the royal navy many times - they were imposing and pristine. She imagined a pirate ship would be impressive in it's own right, but beyond that she had no idea what to expect.

"So you'd like to see my _ship_ then?" His tongue rolled over the word lasciviously and he shifted even closer toward her. She bit her lip in anticipation as she mulled things over.

This was the moment. The moment to either give up the game, or be brave and give in to the thing she'd been fighting all night. Should she be the princess, or the normal woman? Any normal woman would jump at the chance to sleep with this man. He was sex on legs, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap hers around him while he pillaged and plundered. She squirmed on the bench, desperately seeking some friction to relieve the deep ache that had settled between her thighs.

How this man had gotten her so riled up with just a few innuendos was beyond her, but all she knew was that she wanted him. Desperately. She decided to give him a taste of his own medicine before giving in.

"Perhaps." She tried to play cool. "Is it _impressive_?"

His eyes darkened considerably at her comment, changing in a moment from a sparkling cerulean to a deep sapphire.

"Come back for a night cap, and find out for yourself." He stood up then, not bothering to hide the obvious tenting of his tight leather pants, the generous bulge at nearly eye level for her. He moved again, stepping to the side and holding his hand out to help her up.

She blinked up at him, immediately taking his hand and not letting go until he moved to grab some coins, giving them to the barmaid as they passed. It was more than enough to cover the drinks the two had shared, which gave her pause. Pirates weren't exactly known to be the generous type, but she didn't dwell on the thought, as his hand found it's way to the small of her back, possessively showing her to the door.

As they stepped into the cool night air the reality of what she was doing started to settle in. She was knowingly accompanying a pirate back to his ship. She must be crazy, right? She glanced to her right, seeing the towering palace in the distance. What would her parents think? She shivered at the thought, and Killian looked down at her intently, bringing them just short of the gangway.

"You can change your mind, you know." His tone was deadly serious. "I may be a pirate, but I do believe in good form, and I'll not take a woman against her will."

She thought for a long moment, and despite the multitude of reasons she shouldn't want this - she still did. She didn't know why, but it just felt right. He seemed to know so much about the world, have so much experience - and she wanted desperately to feel some of that. To finally be selfish and do what she wanted, and right now, all she wanted to do was let this man have his way with her, to show her pleasure in ways she'd only heard servants gossiping about.

"Lead the way, Captain." Her voice was strong and clear. There was no mistaking her decision. She wanted this.

He seemed surprised, but merely hummed a little as he looked her over. Once he was satisfied that she was certain, he swept her off her feet and carried her up to the deck, setting her down gently on the planks of the well-kept ship.

The ship certainly was impressive. Impeccably maintained, even dignified, which wasn't at all what she expected. It looked nearly regal, and she realized dumbly that it may very well have been a royal ship at some point.

He scratched behind his ear nervously, an odd little tick that surprised her. He seemed bashful in that moment, it made him look younger, more unsteady than she thought he was capable of.

"So, would you like the full tour, or…" he trailed off, giving her another out. But to be honest, seeing him look so uncertain only made her desire for him thrum more insistently. She wanted to wipe the anxiety from his handsome face - wanted the cavalier captain again.

"Maybe we could start with the Captain's quarters," she cooed, trailing a delicate finger from the underside of his jaw down his collarbone and along the deep v of his vest. He shuddered under her touch and her confidence flared. She may be inexperienced, but she somehow instinctively knew how to take his breath away. It made her feel powerful.

"If the lady insists," he responded. Turning on his heel to pull open the hatch, pointing to the ladder leading down to his cabin. She stepped down them lightly, holding his offered hand until she got her bearings and felt the solid floor beneath her. She stepped back to allow him to follow her down, trying to make out the features of the room in the low light.

The hatch door closed and locked, and he made quick work of lighting a lantern to cast a subtle glow of light. She was looking at his impressive collection of books, some navigation reference books, others boasting tales of adventure and intrigue. He stepped behind her, his hands possessively gripping her waist, fingers digging in harshly. She shouldn't like it, but she groaned at his obvious strength - loving the feeling of his lean frame pressing into her from behind.

She could feel his insistent arousal pressing into her backside, even though his leather and her skirts, and he leaned his head to one side to whisper hotly into her ear.

"Last chance, Princess."

She went rigid in his hold. Did she hear that right?

"Yes, I know who you really are, Princess Emma."

"But at the tavern…" she started, but he cut her off.

"I had my suspicions. After all, such porcelain skin is rare even among royals, but impossible among us regular folks. When we were outside, you gave yourself away. The way you looked at the palace, it's the way I look at the Jolly Roger. That's your home. So I'll ask you just one more time," he turned her around so he could see her face, expecting to find terror there at being discovered. Instead he was met with adrenaline and lust, and he knew this princess was unlike anyone he'd ever met. "Still want to spend a night with the Captain, Princess?"

He'd barely gotten the words out before she'd grabbed the lapels of his shirt, pulling him into her, their lips crashing into a brutal kiss. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Her heart pounding away at her brash decision and the feeling of his tongue swiping at her bottom lip in a silent plea for entry into her mouth. She moaned and opened wider for him, his hand finding the back of her head before slanting his mouth over hers, allowing him to deepen their kiss.

He was drowning in her. He had no idea what in the world this princess was thinking, throwing herself at a lowly pirate like himself, but he wasn't about to stop her. He'd wanted her ever since he caught sight of her at the tavern. He could see how beautiful she was, despite her attempts to cover herself up in tattered skirts and a bit of dirt. The feral part of him saw something so pretty and delicate and just wanted to take his pleasure. There was a kind of satisfying violence in being rough with something so soft, and the moment she started flirting back he knew she was the kind of woman who might actually appreciate the rougher side of him.

He pulled back, both of them breathless from their kiss. She whined at the separation. Now that she knew what it could feel like, she never wanted to stop kissing him. He reached around her, pulling at her laces until she could slip out of her dress and skirts, leaving her in just a slip before him. As much as she loved that vest, she wanted to see what he looked like underneath. He felt amazing under her fingers, but seeing his toned muscle was likely to be a singular experience.

She wasn't familiar with men's clothing though, and she found herself fumbling to figure out how to get him out of his vest and trousers. He chuckled to himself.

"Quite eager, aren't you, princess?"

He took over her task, quickly working the buttons of his vest and sliding his shirt over his shoulders, revealing his dark patch of chest hair. Emma ran her fingers through it, enamored with the feeling of him under her soft hands. He gasped as she brought her hands to the edge of his leather pants, trailing along the top of them, even dipping her fingers under them the tiniest bit.

He growled at her and grabbed her wrist roughly, shoving it down to cup his generous length. She wasn't entirely sure what to do, but she tentatively gripped the hard outline of him and he hissed as he head fell backward in pleasure.

His head fell forward again, his gaze unsteady as he saw her palming him through the thick material. She was an absolute vision, and he wanted to save this moment in his memory for the rest of time.

After he'd savored the feeling, he shoved his pants down his legs, kicking them off unceremoniously, his cock finally springing free - bobbing in front of him as she stared. She'd seen a few men naked before, her friend Ruby had snuck out with her one summer day and spied on a couple of boys stripping down and jumping into the lake, enjoying the cool water.

But this was different, much more like the dirty book that Ruby had brought her one day. The two of them curled up under the covers of her bed, giggling over the lewd pictures. He was quite large, from what she could tell, and she suddenly got a little nervous, wondering how on earth that was going to fit where she knew it was supposed to go. No wonder people said that it could be painful.

"Impressive enough for you, milady?" He stood proudly, no shame in his stance, even as he stood completely naked under her gaze. She couldn't bring herself to answer, she just gulped and licked her lips. "That's what I thought," he crooned, closing short distance between them and bringing her into another passionate kiss.

His hands started to wander while their tongues worked in tandem, first running down her ribs, almost ticklishly, before dropping lower, to the small of her back, and then even lower as he grabbed her ass hard enough to leave fingermarks. His rough hands pulled at her slip, bringing it up high enough for him to snake his hand underneath it. He let his hands work up her stomach to her breasts, her nipples pebbled under his touch, the material of her slip now bunched up on his forearms as he dipped his head down to suck on one of the rosy buds.

She gasped at the intensity of the sensation, his scruff burning her skin as he tongue drew circles on her. Pulling the slip the rest of the way over her head she was gloriously nude before him, her body giving in completely to the way he expertly worked her.

Before long he brought a hand down between her legs experimentally, his fingers moving through her curls down to her slit below.

"Are you wet for me princess?" He cooed into her chest as he drug his fingers through her folds, sending a shock of pleasure through her.

"Seven hells, lass, you're positively soaked for me," he breathed out, pulling his fingers upward to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Once he found it she cried out. She'd touched herself there before, but this was so different. He knew exactly what to do, and he worked tight little circles over her until her hips started rutting into his hand. He withdrew his touch for only a moment as he sunk to his knees before her, pushing her back up against the ladder as he brought his mouth to her.

She gripped the rungs of the ladder as he brought her legs up onto his shoulders, all the while keeping his tongue pressed into her most intimate place. Emma was seeing stars, at least she imagined she would be seeing stars if she could see anything at all. The whole world was spinning and growing dark around the edges as he worked her, tongue alternating between plunging wetly into her and lapping at her clit. With an particularly hard suck at her bundle of nerves she felt every muscle in her body tense as her orgasm crashed into her. She nearly screamed with pleasure, but he kept his mouth on her through the entire thing, even as the aftershocks shook her body.

He brought her feet back to the ground but gave her no time to recover, pulling her from the ladder and bending her over his desk roughly, sending the few papers and books that were there toppling to the floor. His obvious urgency sent yet another wave of wetness to her core, even as she could feel the combination of her release and his saliva dripping down her thigh.

She could feel him lining himself up behind her, his breath ragged before he'd even done anything to relieve his own tension. She was eager to feel him pressing into her tight sheath. If that's how it felt when he simply kissed and touched her there, she couldn't wait to feel him pressed into her. But he wasn't moving. He was just there, breathing hard.

"Captain?" She looked back at him over her shoulder, and he nearly came on the spot, just seeing her pleading eyes staring back at him, ready and willing for him to ruin her.

"You're sure?" He asked her one more time. He had to be certain.

In response she rolled her hips backward, bringing the tip of him into her hot center. He cursed loudly, grabbing her hips tight enough to bruise, his hands shaking as he held her in place, gulping down air just to keep himself from exploding into her without ever taking a single thrust. This woman would be the death of him, no doubt.

Once he'd pulled himself together enough for his vision to clear he took a deep breath.

"Hold on tight, love, I don't think I can be gentle," he warned.

"Who says I want you to be gentle?" She challenged, her lips curving into a smirk.

He groaned loudly at her remark, and then he slammed forward, earning a sharp yelp from her as her body tensed in pain. He held himself there, pushed into her deeper than she thought possible, he could feel the tip of him pushing against her walls. She felt incredible around him, so tight and wet and warm. He felt another pulse of arousal roll through him as he hardened impossibly further.

With that he started to move within her, rocking his hips forward in shallow thrusts as her pain gave way to immense pleasure. He felt the moment it happened, her arousal coating him while he was tucked inside her.

"Bloody hell, lass," he croaked, "You feel sublime around me."

He started thrusting into her in earnest now, pulling nearly all the way out before rushing back into her welcoming heat. The push and pull gave them both an incredible high as their bodies fell into a fast rhythm. He was absolutely relentless, and his tenuous grip on his self control was slipping as she started to meet his thrusts by bouncing backward into him.

He grunted and grabbed her her hair, pulling a handful of the golden locks into his hand tightly. She yelped, but found herself enjoying the mixture of pleasure and pain again.

"Gods, you like that, don't you? Dirty, wanton little Princess." His hips stuttering a little as he brought his other hand around to her backside.

"Yes, Captain," She moaned, "like it - ugh - like it rough."

He smiled wickedly, of course she liked it rough. And thank the gods for that, because he wasn't sure he could be gentle with her driving him mad like that.

"You want the pirate to ravish you, don't you? Want me to -" he rammed into her harshly as he spoke, bringing her to the brink with the combination of his sinful voice and his body, "destroy you for other men?"

She couldn't respond, he had her hair pulled so hard that the long column of her throat was tense enough to make speech impossible.

He brought his hand back to her ass and swatted her hard, making her jump - his cock moving deliciously inside her as she did. If she hadn't had a mind-blowing orgasm just minutes ago that would have done her in, but she was teetering just on the edge now. Ready to go at any moment, she just needed that extra little push.

As if Killian could read her mind he removed his hand from her backside and brought it up to grab her hand (which had been gripping the desk tightly), shoving it between their legs. His intent was obvious, but he growled his instruction into her ear, regardless.

"Touch yourself, Princess. Want to feel you come around me."

She could hardly resist, and it only took a few strokes to get her dangerously close.

"God, Killian - I'm gonna come" she panted and he started to rut into her wildly.

"Say it again" he commanded, his voice gravelly and strained. "Say my name."

With another swipe over her clit she was sent flying over that golden peak - screaming his name over and over as she clenched and convulsed around him. The feeling of her walls gripping him in that uncontrollable rhythm made him finally follow her into bliss.

He grunted as his hips thrust once, twice, three more times before he pressed as deeply into her as he could, pulsing thick streams of his release into her, painting her insides with his creamy seed. His vision had gone black as he came, unable to focus on anything as the swirl of his pleasure overtook him.

After a few long minutes he was finally able to pull away from her, allowing himself to slip out of her. She stayed bent over the desk, still catching her breath and he took her in. The angry red welts on her backside where he'd swatted her, her hair a tangled mess, the bruises already forming on her his where his hands had gripped her so tightly, the white trails of their combined releases running down her thigh. She was utterly debauched and it was the most devastatingly beautiful sight he'd ever beheld.

He grabbed a cloth, dipping it in the washbin before bringing it over to start cleaning her up with more tenderness than she thought him capable of. Especially after that. She never would have thought she would enjoy something like that, but the way he made her feel was just - incredible.

"You OK, lass?" He finally spoke after cleaning her up. "That was…"

His voice was tinged with worry, and she quickly turned to make sure he could see her face.

"More than OK." She smiled back at him. "That was amazing."

He broke into a wide grin, and he knew his life would never be the same again.


	11. Cancer Fighting Fic 6: Dark Hollow Smut

_A/N: My darling nfbagelperson (on tumblr) donated to my fundraiser for the American Cancer Society, and this is my little way of saying thank you. So here's some Dark Hollow Divergent smut. Hope you like it, dear!_

Of course Emma and Neal volunteered to start working on trapping the shadow - and Killian immediately joined them, knowing both the importance and the danger of their task. As they stood inside the cave that was Neal's former home (with the coconut that would serve as the shadow's cage in hand) they planned their next move.

Killian had known at the outset they would eventually end up at the Dark Hollow, and as much as he didn't want to venture there, he certainly wouldn't let Emma and Neal go alone - if not only because he felt like he'd been punched in the gut anytime he saw them together, the petty jealousy flaring up into his chest and constricting around his throat.

Though he'd spent many years thinking fondly of Baelfire, even desperately wishing to fill the role of father-figure to the young son of his former love, it was sometimes difficult to remember that the man standing before him - and that young lad from his memories were indeed the same person.

The two men slung barbed comments and semi-insults back and forth at each other as they trekked through the jungle toward their goal. Snow had warned Emma as they left that the two of them having feelings for her could be dangerous, but she had shrugged it off - unable to think of anything other than the task at hand, and hoping they would be able to do the same.

Before long they found themselves at the edge of the hollow - menacing and twisted trees with bark that looked either darkly charred or ashy grey, all in a backdrop of blood red sky. Killian's stomach dropped. He'd managed to avoid this place for all his many years on the island, and with good reason, the hollow was home to the victims of pan's shadow - and he certainly didn't want to become one of those wretched souls.

The wind picked up fiercely and howled as it rushed through the limbs of the trees, snuffing out their lantern as soon as they'd stepped in. Luckily Neal had some kind of a flint with him, but he was struggling nonetheless to get it to work. Killian grew impatient with his fumbling attempts and stepped in to try to do it himself, but it led to a juvenile squabble that sent the damn thing flying out of both their hands.

"Really?" she said exasperatedly as the men went in search of the small silver object.

Just then a familiar rush of cold sliced through the air - sending a shiver up Killian's spine. It was here.

"Is that Pan's shadow?" Emma yelled over the roaring winds as they all drew swords on the creature. It was swirling above them, and though it maintained the outline of a human, it almost looked like black smoke save for the two bright white spots of it's eyes.

He knew they needed a distraction. If he could draw it's attention long enough, it would free up Emma and Neal to stop defending themselves and get the candle lit. And should the worst happen - and his shadow be ripped from him… well, at least she'd still have Neal, and the boy would have his father.

Without a moment's hesitation he jumped out in front of them, arms outstretched as he goaded the creature on.

"Right here!" he yelled and the creature turned toward him - diving in close enough to nearly knock him backward, but his feet stayed firmly planted as his lips twisted into a wicked taunting grin.

"S'that the best you've got?" He teased, glancing back at others - hoping they'd understood his purpose. They were gaping at him, Neal's brow furrowed in confusion and Emma's mouth slightly open in shock. They had stood there, dumbfounded at his brash decision and hadn't made a move to light the candle. Sudden recognition flashed on Neal's face as he turned to continue searching for the lighter.

"Emma! The candle!" Neal called out to her, shaking her from her stupor just as the shadow dove for Killian again, this time picking him up and slamming him into a nearby tree.

His limbs were flailing wildly as the demon held him nearly 20 feet in the air, his back grinding against the hard bark as he tried desperately to get free of the creature's grasp. Neal was still searching frantically for the lighter, but to no avail, and Emma knew she'd have to rely on her magic if she wanted to save Killian.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus all her energy on lighting the flame, but a sudden scream made them pop open to see Killian thrashing as the shadow pulled at him. She could actually see his shadow being torn out of his body - his face twisted in agony as a hideous ripping sound split the air.

He'd endured plenty of pain in his life, but this was truly horrifying. He could see his shadow being taken right out of him - feeling the seams of his body and soul being torn apart before he closed his eyes - the torment overcoming him as his vision ran white. And then he was just falling, for what felt like a very long time.

His eyes snapped open as he tried desperately to breathe - it was as if he was drowning, but he wasn't in the water. The moment his chest expanded with his lungs half-full he felt a searing jab - just as if he'd been stabbed and he sputtered and gasped. It took a few moments for him to catch his breath - the shallow pants getting him just enough oxygen as he took in his surroundings. He was in a sort of makeshift tent, he tried to turn to the side to see more, and his knee buckled under the pain of what was surely a broken leg.

"Easy," Emma soothed - splaying her hand over his chest to keep him down. "You got tagged pretty good there."

Despite all the pain he knew he should be experiencing - the only thing that mattered was her warm fingers pressed into the skin just over his heart. If she were paying attention she would likely feel the erratic hammering underneath her touch.

Her eyes found his, and she looked gorgeous as ever, but tired - and he realized that they were back at camp, which means they must have carried him back, all that way. His brow creased in concern, realizing what a burden it must've been, but the way she looked at him… full of concern and worry… He felt breathless again, but for a completely different reason.

"That was pretty stupid, even for you. Why did you do it?" The last part came out breathier than she had intended, but it was difficult to maintain her tough girl persona when she was so utterly flummoxed by the man before her.

She knew his reputation, of course, and not just the Disney version with the waxed mustache and the perm, but the "real" version as well. The tales of the vicious and cutthroat pirate who'd killed dozens of men without a second thought and only did what was best for himself. And yet, he'd come back to help them save Henry, offered his ship, trekked alongside them, helped find a cure for her Father's dreamshade poisoning and now… He'd almost died, again. Offering himself up to the demon as if he were nothing more than bait.

She wasn't sure she was ready to say it out loud, but watching him fall to the ground heavily after the shadow was pulled into the candlelight, crumpled in a broken heap of leather, disturbingly still - it made her realize that he meant something to her. She was absolutely terrified when she thought he might be dead, all of their chemistry and their potential lay there on the ground with his body, motionless.

He scratched nervously behind his ear - trying to determine the level of honesty that would be most appropriate.

"Better me than the lad's father. Besides, without the one-handed pirate with a drinking problem the rum stores will fare better on the return journey," he tried to infuse some humor into his tone, but found his strength waning as the words ran oddly flat and melancholy.

He swallowed thickly as her expression shifting into something unreadable.

"And what about you? You used to only care about yourself," Emma asked. The memory of their conversation on the docks before they departed flashing through his mind.

 _Perhaps I just needed reminding that I could._

"Lass, the last person to care about my life died centuries ago."

Milah. Had it really been that long? At times it felt every second of those hundreds of years, and at others it felt like mere moments ago.

"That's not true." Her soft voice pulled at him before he fell headlong into the memories that always sucked him into a swirl of anger and pain.

"I'm sorry?" He stuttered, thinking he must've misheard her. Emma's walls were far too high to allow her to say something that… honest? Kind? He wasn't sure exactly what the word was.

"I don't know what _this_ " she gestured between the two of them, "is, but when I saw you after… in the hollow… I just…" she was struggling to find a way to say it, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as he brought her hand to his face gently. "I care about you, Killian."

His heart swelled at her words, the sound of his given name coming from her lips was something he would treasure. She cared for him. He broke into a wide grin - so wide his cheeks started to burn from the force of it. Seeing him smile sent a burst of joy through her chest, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"You do?" He asked nervously.

She just nodded in return. He felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her, and he sat up to reach for her, forgetting his injuries. The pain slammed into him all at once and he grimaced. Emma glanced down at him sympathetically, bringing her hands over his injured ribs and closing her eyes - the corners crinkling with her focus.

He felt a sudden warmth where her hands hovered over him, a pleasant tingling replacing the lingering pain. She trailed her fingers down to his broken leg, he could feel the bone stitching itself back together as she worked. It was disconcerting, but it didn't hurt, and before long she'd moved on to other injuries he didn't even know he had. His right ankle, his left shoulder, his jaw.

She lingered there at his jaw and he saw her staring at his lips. He desperately wanted to kiss her, but he thought better of it - not wanting to scare her away, not now that she'd confessed that she had feelings for him. But just then she descended on him, her lips crashing into his, tongues curling around each other in a frantic dance.

His hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her in place as he returned her kiss, pouring all of himself into her, trying to memorize the way she tasted of cinnamon and vanilla, the feeling of her tongue massaging his own. He fully expected her to come to her senses any moment now, just the way she had after he'd returned with her father. But she didn't pull away.

Instead she climbed up onto him, her legs astride his hips, her arms on either side of his head while she continued kissing him.

He groaned into her mouth as he brought his hand to her waist and she rocked into his touch. He hardened further under her, hissing at the immense pressure that was building. It would either take miles of walking in the cool night air or a few minutes alone with his hand to relieve the tension she was building. She must've felt it, but she still didn't stop.

His lust-fogged mind cleared for just enough to remember where they were, and he regrettably pulled his lips from hers, his heart breaking at the way she tried to chase him for a moment.

"Love… Not that I… ugh" she was sucking at his neck now, distracting him with a swirl of her tongue along the column of his throat, "I'm not complaining - but the others…"

Gods above he just wanted to say "hang the others, don't ever stop," but he also didn't much like the idea of David walking in on them and running him through.

She only lifted her lips from his collarbone long enough to whisper into his ear, "Scouting a fresh lead, won't be back for a couple hours."

"A fresh lead? Why aren't you with them?" She'd been running herself ragged trying to get to her son, why would she suddenly stay behind?

"I couldn't…" she had that look in her eyes again, the one he couldn't quite figure out, and even as he tried they darted back down to his lips. "You were still unconscious. I couldn't leave you."

"Why, love?" He still couldn't believe she would willingly stay behind in the search for her son.

"I already told you, Pirate," she smacked him on the shoulder playfully. "I care about you. So quit with the almost dying, already."

"Say it again love," he was kissing her hand, trailing his soft lips up her wrist and arm, making his way up to the soft skin between her neck and her collarbone.

"I care about you," she kissed his jaw as she said it and he moaned.

"Again," he commanded, sending a bolt of desire straight to her core. She could see him boldly leading his crew with a voice like that. Hell, she'd do anything he asked as long as he said it like that.

"I care." She whispered it into his ear and he shuddered at the sound and the feeling of her hot breath on his skin.

"And I for you, Emma."

He brought his lips to hers again and sighed into the kiss. And good lord could he kiss. With each swipe of his tongue against hers she felt her walls come crashing down. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of him. She found herself rocking into him mindlessly, her hips grinding against his as her body sought the friction her mind hadn't yet realized it needed.

She could feel the hard outline of him pressing into her core through their layers of clothes and she was almost dizzy with desire - wishing she had enough control of her magic to simply poof away the obstacles between them.

It was such a rush - the both of them simply indulging in the feeling of one another, all sliding hands and writhing bodies. Her fingers working their way through the dark hairs on his chest, down the hard plane of his stomach. And that's when they noticed it.

"Did you…" he looked down to see himself completely naked under her, and she was only in her practical black bra and panties. His breath caught as he took her in, all pale creamy skin, her golden hair looking almost white in the silver glow of the Neverland air. He lifted his arms to run his fingers through it, using his other arm to catch some with his hook and push it over her shoulder to expose her neck to him.

He licked and sucked at her pulse point as she reached back to unclasp the garment and slip it down her arms, pushing his back flat to the ground once more.

"Seven hells, lass…" he was unabashedly staring at her now, his gaze growing feral as his eyes roved her lithe form, her nipples forming stiff peaks under his attention before he tentatively skimmed his fingers up her side, along her ribs and to her breasts, testing the weight of it in his cupped hand before turning his wrist to gently palm and squeeze.

She moaned and rocked in his lap, earning a hiss from him as she ground against his uncomfortably hard length.

"So gorgeous, love," his thrust upward with his hips as he said it, and she knew she couldn't wait any longer. She pushed herself up and stood over him, feet still on either side of his narrow hips. His heart froze as he thought for a moment she was going to leave him now, collect her clothing and walk away - reason finally winning out.

But then she looked him up and down, his black hair mussed from her hands tugging at it, his sapphire eyes shining through the darkness, his skin unnaturally pale in the low light, marked with so many scars - the physical evidence of his long and turbulent life, the dark smattering of hair on his chest, trailing down his toned stomach in a thin line until blooming out again between his legs where his manhood jutted out proudly, long, thick and fully at attention. She licked her lips at the sight, wanting to run her tongue over the silky flesh, feel him throb as she chased his pulse up to the tip.

She hooked her thumbs under her panties, shimmying her hips to work the material down her legs, and he bit his lip impatiently, eagerly awaiting her return. She bent low again, straddling his hips once more, rubbing her wet center up his arousal, coating him with it.

He bit his tongue in surprise at the intensity of the feeling, she was so warm and slick, and all it would take is one tilt of his hips to drive into her welcoming heat and claim her as his own. She smirked at him, sitting back enough to trail kisses down that dark path of hair until her lips closed around the tip of him.

"Emma!" He cried out, his hand springing to her hair, holding her tightly as his arm shook with the effort it took for him to hold himself on that edge - not letting the pleasure overtake him as she slowly moved downward until her nose pressed against that thatch of hair. The noises he made were nearly inhuman as she tongued him, driving him mad with every movement before she suddenly crawled back up him, taking him in hand as she positioned herself over him, dragging him through her soaking folds several times before sinking down, keening as he slipped into her.

His hips rushed up of their own accord to meet her until he was pressed to the hilt. She cried out in a moment of pain, he felt so much larger like this than he did in her mouth - pushed so deeply into her that she stretched to accommodate him fully. He remained deathly still inside her, allowing her a moment to adjust to him - and then she sighed, a strange noise, really. It wasn't a breathy moan, or a needy plea, but a contented sigh, as if she'd finally come home after a long and arduous journey. His heart made the same sound the moment she'd admitted her feelings.

"Please, Killian," the desperation had returned to her tone as she rolled her hips into him. His self-control snapped and he bucked up into her, their pace quickly turning frenzied as they met each other thrust for thrust - their bodies immediately falling into a decadent dance of passion.

The push and pull, the rich drag of him sliding along her inner walls sent them both into a heady cloud of bliss, all else fading away but the exquisite torture of climbing higher, coming closer and closer to that golden peak together.

He wanted nothing more than to stay like this for eternity - this glorious goddess riding him hard, taking so much pleasure in the joining of their bodies and souls. She had bewitched him, and he could die happy if this was all he would ever receive in return for his affections.

Her mouth hung open in a silent plea, her head falling back, allowing her golden hair to cascade down her back in luscious waves as she swirled and rocked against him. And just as he thought she couldn't be any more beautiful, she reached down and grabbed his hand, bringing it to her mouth and pulling in two of his fingers while he arched an eyebrow at her. She hollowed her cheeks to suck on them harshly before releasing them with a wet pop. His mouth ran dry as she pulled his hand down to the place where they were joined, urging him to touch her.

He quickly found her sensitive bundle of nerves, pressing light little circles into her while he gauged her reactions until he found just the right movement and the perfect amount of pressure.

"Oh, God, yes…" her head fell forward, catching the intensity in his eyes before she glanced down to see his fingers working her, his hips never stopping their steady rhythm. "God… yes!"

He smirked up at her, giving a particularly hard thrust, "Killian will do, love."

As much as she wanted to roll her eyes at him, she couldn't do anything but moan as his intensity picked up.

"Want to hear you say it again," the demanding tone had returned to his voice, "Want you to scream my name as you fall apart around me."

And with him moving like that inside her, touching her like that, and talking like that - she had no choice in the matter, her body making the decision for her. That tight cord of pleasure finally snapped as she bucked wildly against him, her walls clenching around him as bright lights burst behind her eyes.

"Killian!" She cried out his name as she shuddered through her orgasm, the force of it dragging him over the edge with her. He felt every muscle in his body tense up, but he pushed through it, determined to press as deeply into her still fluttering walls as he could before he felt himself begin to pulse inside her, filling her with his warmth as he grunted and groaned until they were both completely spent.

They stayed there for a long time, just letting their breathing calm back down. She curled up on his chest as best she could without allowing him to slip out of her, which he was grateful for. He wanted to hold onto her for as long as he could, not wanting to feel the cold on his body anymore than the cold in his heart.

She'd melted away the years of icy resolve with just a few interactions, but this - this was something he would never recover from, and to be honest, he really didn't want to.

He found his coat within distance of his hook, twisting it to catch the collar, pulling it over them as a blanket. They fell asleep like that for some time, and when the woke up about an hour later, they dressed silently and quickly, cleaning up the tent just as the others came back. They were none the wiser about what had happened between the two (save for Emma's magic clearly healing his injuries), but a keen observer would have caught the knowing glances and smirks.


	12. Cancer Fighting Fic 7: Deckhand Killian

_A/N: The next installment of my Cancer Fighting Fic series is dedicated to the lovely emmaswanchoosesyou on Tumblr, who requested "either more Priest!Killian or Deckhand!Killian (with smitten but more knowledgeable Emma). Smut optional but appreciated!" Well, I went with Deckhand!Killian with more experienced Emma. Though I've never actually seen Outlander, I borrowed a baby bit from it to craft one particular scene in here, so extra kudos to those of you who catch that. A BIG thank you to the lovely xpumpkindumplingx who took a quick look over this to correct some of my silly typos. Cheers, love. And enjoy!_

Some people did this kind of thing for the thrill of it - bored wives looking for an easy way to get their heart pumping when the reality of their mundane lives drones out everything but that taunting voice in their head.

But that wasn't the case with Emma. She stole because she had to. She didn't like the idea of taking something that wasn't rightfully hers - she just didn't have any other choice. It wasn't like her family was going through tough times, she simply didn't have a family at all. On the one hand, it was a blessing, she only had to look out for herself - and that she could quite well. On the other, it was a curse, there was nobody to help share the load when things got really really tough.

Sure, she was able to pick up odd jobs here and there - a tavern in need of a few extra workers when they expected a lot of ships coming in to port, a shop looking for someone to do a bit of sweeping. But she just couldn't seem to catch a break for very long. Inevitably her brief employment would come to an end, and while some gave her sympathetic platitudes about hoping to hire her again when things "picked up," she knew it wasn't likely to actually happen. It was like she was cursed.

The past few days had her wishing for a family. She spent the last of her savings on a chunk of crudely made soap, hoping that if she could clean herself up well enough, someone would give her a real chance. But with no money for food she was nearly delirious with hunger a few days later, and she knew she couldn't go any longer without resorting to theft. She swiped a loaf of bread from a cart outside the bakery, but with the exhaustion setting in she'd gotten sloppy.

At just the moment she'd turned on her heel to abscond with her prize a sharp yelp split the air. She looked over her shoulder to see a wide-eyed child, curly dark hair framing her freckled face, her mouth open in alarm, little arm outstretched, pointing directly at her. Unfortunately for her, there was a guard nearby who not only heard the cry but made eye contact with Emma - his steely grey eyes locking onto hers in an instant.

It only took another fraction of a second for Emma's body to react the only way she knew how. She ran. Her feet pounded the cobblestones as she weaved her way through the streets, looking back only once to see him lumbering after her. But she was quick - and she knew every stone and brick of this town and before long she found herself at the docks, eyeing the only ship she didn't recognize, one that must be passing through.

Her decision was made in a split second and she slipped her shoes off quickly to minimize the noise of her feet carrying her up the gangway, wary of any lingering sailors keeping eye on their precious vessel. She saw only one man aboard, down on his knees, his back hunched as he scrubbed at the deck, too busy with his work to notice her slip behind a few barrels and crates.

She steadied her breathing while she contemplated her next move. It was likely the sailors would check their ship for stowaways before leaving port, and this was such a comically obvious place to hide. She knew she had to find somewhere more secure, and quickly.

She took a deep breath through her nose and immediately felt a tickle that had her cursing inwardly.

 _God no. Not now. Just don't think about it… OK. That's not gonna happen, but focus on something else…_

The tickle turned into a sting and as much as she tried to stifle it, a harsh (and loud) sneeze wracked her body.

She could hear the lone sailor drop his work and his feet move slowly in her direction.

"Who's there?" His voice called out, unsteady and wavering. "Smee? You better not be teasing me again or I'll… I'll… you know." He stammered.

Emma would've laughed at his failed attempts at intimidation if she wasn't about to be discovered and thrown off her only means of escape. Regardless of her muffled _near-_ laughter, the footfalls continued to close in on her hiding spot, and she knew she was bound to be outed.

She toyed with the small dagger she had hidden under her skirts, pulling it free and gripping it tightly as his boots scraped close enough for her to make her move. She leapt out from her hiding place and caught him by surprise, bringing the blade to his throat as she brought her other hand around his shoulder to hold him in place.

He hissed as the cool metal of the blade made contact with his skin. He knew she wasn't play-acting as the dagger pushed uncomfortably into his neck, drawing the slightest amount of blood without really doing much harm - but with a flick of her wrist he'd bleed out on this freshly scrubbed deck in mere minutes.

"Are you alone?" She rasped in his ear - eyes darting around the rest of the ship to see if anyone had escaped her initial sweep.

Killian shuddered under the sultry sound of this woman at his back. He certainly hadn't expected that - and even though he hadn't seen her, the voice alone was likely to haunt his dreams. Even though she was threatening him, there was something incredibly heady about a woman clutching him desperately and whispering in his ear.

"Aye, lass. The others will be back at sunset. But I'll warn you now," his voice grew slightly steadier as he spoke, "I'm just a deckhand, so if you're looking for a hostage, I'm a poor choice. They wouldn't give you a single bean to spare me."

There was the smallest hint of both courage and resignation in his tone, a softly accented voice that had her suddenly taking notice of the man she'd held her blade to without thought.

He was taller than she'd thought - though she supposed it was difficult to gauge his height with him hunched over his work. His hair was thick and dark, a bit disheveled, but not in a way that looked messy, just enough to give her the impression he'd been running his hand through it - and she had the sudden inexplicable urge to do the same.

His shoulders were broad and muscular under her grasp, she could chalk that up to the hard work he likely put in on the ship, but she still found her grip loosening just a little - fingers flexing over the muscles of his chest, the tension in his stance making them hard under her fingertips. She needed to regain control of the situation - she was getting distracted. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts, but being in such close proximity, all she could think of was the way he smelled of spiced rum and the salty ocean spray.

She had a kind of superpower to tell when people were lying, and she knew that this man genuinely believed that his life was worth nothing, but she couldn't figure out why. Regardless, his honesty, coupled with the fact that he seemed to have cast some kind of spell over her without ever having actually made eye-contact, made her decide to change tactics. Be genuine. Ask for help.

The blade at his neck was suddenly gone, and his hand instinctively moved to check the severity of the cut left behind. He breathed a sigh of relief to find it to be little more than a scratch. He turned to face the fierce woman who'd boldly help him captive - if only for a moment.

She was even more beautiful than he could possibly imagine - bright green eyes with flecks of gold that matched the blonde hair falling in graceful waves over her shoulder. Her slender form held a proud and confident stance with an elegance that reminded him of royalty, even though her clothes and actions made it clear she was no princess - much closer to a warrior, he mused.

Emma could practically feel his appraisal of her, the effect she had on him was evident as she saw his breath hitch - mouth held slightly open as his piercing blue gaze finally found her jade one. So the feeling was mutual, she noted, smiling to herself that she'd chosen the better form of coercion - certain now that he would help her.

"Look, I'd rather not kill you anyway - but I need help. I have to get out of here. They're looking for me."

"Who's _they_ , lass?"

"The guards. They can't find me. At this point I'll probably hang for my crimes…" she said darkly, realizing that her long list of transgressions, though necessary, wasn't going to sound great when read in succession.

"And you think walking the plank is a better fate? Because that's what will happen when Captain Silver finds you." His tone was deadly serious, and she knew it wasn't an idle threat.

"Which is why he can't find me. Help me. Help me hide." She put her hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat drumming under her fingers. He was scared.

He knew this was a horrible idea. Captain Silver wouldn't just make her walk the plank, he'd have his way with her first, and only when he'd tired of her (and flogged him half to death for aiding her), would he send them both to the depths. But with her delicate hand on his chest, her eyes full of desperation and maybe the tiniest sliver of hope - there was no question he would do his best to help.

His mind raced as he tried to think of where to put her. Most of the crew (himself included) bunked together in what amounted to one long hall of cots and hammocks - the senior crew members laying claim to the sturdy beds built into the walls.

He recalled his many years aboard the ship as a child, after his father had sold both him and his brother into slavery for a chance to escape the law, and how often he sought a sanctuary after botching a task - desperate to avoid the punishments of a failed knot in the rigging, a missed spot on the deck, being too slow with the Captain's meal or wine. There were no "gentler" punishments because he was just a boy, and he knew every nook and cranny of the ship like the back of his hand - every possible hiding place had been found through the years.

He knew the perfect one.

"Come with me, Miss…" he held his hand out to her, ready to lead, his eyebrow quirked as he waited for her.

"Swan," she supplied, smiling as she took his hand - trying to ignore the flutter in her belly at the gentlemanly gesture. "Emma Swan."

Swan. He grinned to himself - how appropriate.

There was a small hatch, one that must've served as someone's personal holding over the years. It was incredibly well hidden. He hadn't even found it until he was nearly 12 years old, and even then it was by accident.

There was a knot in the wood of a plank near the corner of the room that served as storage for their food and water supplies. With the right amount of pressure on that knot for exactly five seconds, there would be a small click, and the hatch door would unlock. Even then, finding the edges of the hatch door was quite difficult. They were concealed quite well.

He lead her there now, and she watched in fascination as he found the specific pressure point, the faint click, and the way his fingers trailed the edges of the planks until suddenly, he was lifting a small door she never would have found. He nodded to her and she peered skeptically into the small hole in the floor before turning back to him.

She looked him up and down one more time, her cautious nature bubbling up, making her wary of him once more. She was searching him for any signs of untrustworthiness, or that was the intention - but somehow she wound up just admiring him again. Her eyes started at his own, but slowly moved downward to appreciate the light scruff at his chin, his strong jawline, the broad set of his shoulders, the way his waist narrowed into what was clearly a toned stomach and tight hips...

"It's bigger than it looks," his voice shook her from her thoughts and her eyebrow shot up at his comment - assuming it was brought on by her staring dangerously low. She was shocked at his sudden brashness, but strangely she found herself enjoying the flirtation.

A sudden flicker of horror marred his features as he followed her sightline down to his hips, realizing she thought "it" meant… He immediately felt himself go red all the way from his chest to the tips of his ears.

"Gods, no. I meant - I mean," he stumbled over his words hastily trying to correct himself - and she giggled at his discomfort. It was a gorgeous sound, her laughter - like a balm on his frayed nerves. He felt himself relax a little with her easy smile. "I meant the room, lass. The room is larger than it seems from up here."

She felt inexplicably at ease with him. There was something about his shy and nervous behavior that made her trust him - and considering the danger he was putting himself in to help her, she was deeply indebted to him, even for helping her this much. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if they were caught. But this hiding place was quite good - when he opened the hatch it was almost as if it appeared out of nowhere, like magic.

"How did you find this?" she wondered aloud.

He cleared his throat, not sure exactly how much of this story he was willing to tell. But there was something about her that made him want to be honest and forthright - despite the pain it may bring him.

"I uh," he scratched behind his ear nervously. "I've used this space for myself many times over the years. I'm only recently a crewmember aboard this ship - my father sold me to the captain when I was just a lad. I was a poor sailor, not exactly royal navy material, and I often needed a place to escape. You see, there's not much solitude on a ship like this. This was my sanctuary."

Her heart clenched at the tale, she could imagine him as a young boy - abandoned, alone, frightened half to death as he faced the captain's ire. The grimace he wore as he spoke was evidence that there was much more to the story than he was sharing, but she didn't press the issue. No wonder he'd found a small corner all to himself.

"Can you show me? Is there room for two?" She inquired quietly. She wanted to get to know him - and it felt oddly intrusive going down alone, now that she knew the significance the room held.

He swallowed thickly before responding. Of course she was nervous about going down there alone - she didn't know him, he could be locking her in here only to give her up to the captain upon his return.

"Aye, lass. But only just."

She backed down the small ladder, slipping into the darkness - her eyes never leaving his, her hand still gripping as she pulled him closer to the hatch, urging him to follow.

He knew they still had plenty of time before the others came back, but there was still a jolt of fear that someone would come back early, having gotten themselves into trouble in town. As his boots hits the floor, all thoughts of anyone other than her disappeared.

The room was warmer than it had ever been, the heat of her body making it feel almost cozy. She smelled faintly of vanilla and it invaded his senses - his sanctuary would be forever changed because of her presence.

There wasn't much space with the two of them in there, and they stood necessarily close together as he pointed to a small blanket in the corner.

"It's perfectly safe, I assure you. Feel free to lie down and get comfortable. I'll try to bring you food and water as often as I can." He was trying his best to put her at ease, but he knew this would be a difficult journey for her. "Next port is in nearly a fortnight, so I'm sorry to say you'll have to be down here for quite some time. Think you can manage, love?"

She smiled and nodded at him - hoping that she looked far confident than she felt.

"I have to go now. Can't fall behind in my work. It'll raise suspicions."

"Wait!" Her cry made him freeze immediately. "I don't even know your name."

"It's Jones. Killian Jones."

And with that, he was back up the ladder, the planks softly clicked into place - and there was a grating sound as Killian shifted a crate over the hatch to obscure it even further.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed with her just sitting in the darkness, but she knew the crew had returned. She heard the heavy footfalls and yells on the deck above as they came back from their night in town. Even though she knew she was well concealed, her heart was racing with all the commotion. Already she was a nervous wreck, she had no idea how she was going to last that long being on edge like this.

After a while she just curled up under her blanket, trying to even out her breathing. The exhaustion finally set in and she fell into what must've been a deep sleep. When she awoke, she found a large chunk of bread next to her, along with a flask. She popped it open and sniffed warily… goat's milk? She cringed a little, but drank it nonetheless.

For a long time she just sat there, alone with her thoughts and the gentle rocking of the ship. The constant noise of the crewmen was starting to become more and more like background noise. As the hours ticked by she started to recognize the difference between the sounds of someone walking near enough that she needed to be extra careful, and those of men who were a bit further away.

She painted pictures in her mind of the hallway just beyond the storage room, trying her best to conjure a sort of map of the bowels of the ship in case she was found and needed to escape quickly. Realistically, she realized it's not like she had anywhere to go. But she could always jump overboard and pray that they were near enough to some kind of land that she wouldn't drown. It'd be better than whatever the captain had in store for her, that's for sure.

The days passed in much the same fashion for what must've been nearly two weeks - she figured they were getting close now. She actually hadn't seen Killian again since he brought her here. Her food always appeared out of nowhere while she slept, and she always had more than enough to eat and drink. One time another blanket appeared along with her dinner, and she was grateful to have both a makeshift pillow and something to keep the cold off of her.

Each day had become a bit of a blur - the lack of sunshine making it difficult to tell the time of day. She had started to figure it out based on the amount of activity on the ship, the days being much busier than the nights. But this particular night was different. There was much more commotion than she was used to. The men sounded… happy. Not just busy, but happy. Like they were celebrating something. Whatever it was, she was glad that it kept them preoccupied, until she started to hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

As usual, she slowed her breathing, keeping it as low and even as possible as the footfalls came closer. Her heart was hammering in her chest as they drew nearer - coming straight toward her. There was a bright flash of fear ripping through her as she held her breath, praying that they would turn suddenly. But as the crate shifted and the hatch popped open, she scrambled to the back corner, as far away as possible.

"Emma, it's alright." He whispered down to her, but he might as well have been screaming - her senses were on such high alert. "It's Killian, love. Can I come down?"

Relief washed over her as the tension fell from her muscles. She quickly replied "yes" as softly as she could manage, as she pushed herself up to greet him.

He pulled the hatch closed as he came down, and his boots had barely hit the floor before she was on him, hugging him fiercely.

"Steady there lass, are you alright?" He cradled her head, her soft hair marred by tangles, as he whispered soothingly into her ear. "Shhhh, love. It's OK. I'm here."

She was finally able to pull back enough to look him in the eye, desperate to thank him for all he'd done for her so far.

"Thank you, Killian. Thank you so much for doing this."

He squirmed a little under her compliments, he didn't have much experience with praise, and he found the sensation to be quite uncomfortable.

"It was the honorable thing to do." He brushed the compliment off. She noticed his curious reaction at the same time she noticed his demeanor. He looked… thinner? Maybe just tired. She couldn't quite place it, but she chalked that up to not knowing him for very long.

"How are you doing it? How are you sneaking that much food and water away without them catching on?"

He looked even more uncomfortable now than when she thanked him. She saw the blush return to his chest, rising up his neck and up to his cheeks, turning them a dusty pink as he brought his hand to his ear and scratched at it again. She smiled at his little nervous habit.

"Well, they would've noticed an extra portion going missing - they're meticulous about rations. They have to be if you're going to make it to the next port. But captain doesn't require you to eat in the mess hall, he lets the men take their meal topside if they like. Everyone just thought I was taking it to the deck…"

He wasn't bringing her _extra_ food. He'd been bringing her _his_ food. She wasn't imagining him looking thinner. He hadn't been eating, or at least not much. She couldn't fathom why this man would go to such great lengths to take care of her. Nearly starving himself so that she could eat. And all this after she'd held him at knifepoint?

"Killian… why? You barely know me…"

He shuffled his feet, looking down at the planks under him, unable to meet her gaze.

"I don't know, lass. I just… had to. I'm generally not a courageous person, but… I don't know why, but you made me realize what kind of man I want to be, and this is my chance to be him."

Never in her life had someone cared so much about her - and she hadn't even given him a reason to. She could never repay the kindness he'd shown her, but she couldn't find the words to express the surge of emotion that rushed through her at his admission. She felt something for him, something incredibly deep and meaningful, and it scared her and thrilled her at the same time.

They were kindred spirits of sorts, both abandoned, both had seen hard times that would've broken less determined people, both had a strong desire to be noble - to do the right thing, both had found themselves unable to live up to that high standard, both wanted to be unabashedly brave - but both of them still flinched in that moment, all too familiar with the pain that often accompanied doing the "right" thing.

She wasn't great with words, and she couldn't think of a way to properly explain to him just how strong her feelings were, just how much she appreciated him. So she did the only thing she could think of, the thing her body had been screaming for since the moment she'd really looked at him.

With a quick step she closed the small distance between them, grabbing him by his shirt, her lips crashing into his as she kissed him so hard that the breath left his lungs in an instant. His shock gave way to passion as she moved her tongue against his own in a heady, rhythmic dance. She tasted like cinnamon and rich vanilla, and he took her in as if he'd been condemned to drown, and she was his final gasping breath.

If this was merely a "thank you" kiss, she would've stopped long ago, but her grip on him remained tight, even as her hands moved from his chest to skate along his sides, his abs tensing as her hands fell to his waist - his pants growing tighter every second. He should have been embarrassed with how quickly she'd affected him, but he couldn't bring himself to care as long as she kept kissing him like that.

He groaned as her fingers pressed insistently into the strong muscles of his lower back, his own hands moving between the golden strands of her hair and the gentle curve of her waist.

Any second now, he thought to himself. Any second now she'll realize this is a mistake and she'll put a stop to it. And when she pulled away from him, breaking their kiss - he sighed deeply, already lamenting the loss of her, his eyes closed as he tried to burn the sensations into his brain so he would never forget.

But then she was pushing him backward, his back smacking against the wall too loudly. His eyes flew open to find her pressed into him even tighter, the curves of her body meeting the hard planes of his perfectly, the feral glint in her eyes proving that she was just as affected as he was.

"Emma…" he ground out her name as she swayed into him, rolling her hips into his fully hardened length. "Emma we can't…"

"Shhhh, Killian, please" she brought her finger to his lips to quiet him. She stepped as far away as she could, pulling at the laces of her dress, loosening the material until she could shimmy out of it. She was left in just a nearly sheer slip, the material doing nothing to hide the beauty of her form from him. She laid the dress down on the floor, coming back to Killian and pressing kisses to his neck while she untucked his shirt, taking her time as she pulled it up over his shoulders.

She bit her lip at the dusting of dark hair that swirled on his chest, and she trailed her fingers along his skin, down to his stomach, his breath catching as she moved low enough to cup him through the taught material of his trousers.

His head thunked against the wooden wall behind him as she rubbed him through the material - allowing the incredible sensation to overtake his every thought until she started picking at his laces.

"Lass, we shouldn't…" he could hardly get the words out, partially because he was practically panting with need but also because there was a less honorable part of himself that desperately wanted her to continue, consequences be damned.

"It's OK, Killian, I want you" she cooed at him, finally getting the laces open enough to dive her hand into them, her delicate fingers curling around his velvety length. He hissed and gritted his teeth as his vision ran white, he tried to think of anything that would keep him from falling over that edge - cleaning fish, that time he had to stitch up the captain's arm, anything. After a moment, he'd composed himself enough to speak.

"Emma, I can't…" she could see the embarrassment in his features - and she figured out what he was saying just a moment before he continued. "That is to say I've never... I don't know what to do…"

She buried his uncertainty in a passionate kiss, allowing her tongue to soothe his worry about his lack of experience.

"I can show you," she whispered seductively, giving him a quick pump as she said it - his hips jolting further into her hand of their own accord. "As long as you're OK with the fact that I… um." The words died on her lips, but they both knew what she meant. "Does that bother you?"

He shook his head from side to side, "I imagine one of us ought to know what they're doing."

That was all the reply she needed, grabbing him by the shoulder, beckoning him down to the floor with her. There was just enough room for him to lay on his back, and she grinned wickedly as she climbed on top of him, loving the way his eyes grew darker as she moved over him.

He was in awe of her. A siren through and through. And she wanted _him_.

He let her explore, pressing trails of kisses along his chest, down his stomach, until she reached his pants. Though undone, they were still hanging lowly on his hips. She licked a stripe along the skin just above that line, skimming her fingers under the material until she started to tug, his hips lifting to allow her to slip the material down his legs and off of him completely.

He'd never made it nearly this far with a woman before, and he was both terrified and incredibly aroused. He felt like his heart would leap out of his chest and his cock was throbbing painfully with each beat of his heart. She sat back on her heels between his legs, as she pulled off her slip - the final stitch of clothing that had been keeping them apart.

His mouth ran dry at the sight of her - an absolute goddess, creamy white skin gleaming even in the low light of their hiding place, the perfect curves of her breasts, the slim line of her waist, the desire clouding her green eyes.

She bent over him, kissing up each of his thighs before allowing herself to place a gentle kiss to the very tip of him - his hips bucking in surprise as his body chased her lips. She smirked up at him, and he memorized the sight of her smiling up at him from between his legs, her lips shining and kiss swollen, the tip of him glistening where she'd held her mouth just moments ago.

He had to bit his lip to keep from crying out as she bent over him again, this time pressing her tongue insistently up the underside of his cock from root to tip before pulling off of him with a wet pop.

The cool air hitting his overly sensitive and wet skin sent a shiver up his spine, but she quickly moved up his body, covering him with her warmth. She felt amazing, his hands unable to stop moving over her smooth skin, the slight weight of her on top of him making him dizzy with desire.

She grabbed his hand, which had settled on her waist, and she lifted her hips enough to guide his fingers to her soaking center, dragging through her folds and up to her sensitive bundle of nerves. He could feel her muscles stiffen when their hands came to that spot, and he knew she was showing him exactly how he could bring her pleasure.

He was eager to reciprocate, wanting to make her feel every bit as good as he did. At first his movements were fumbling, out of sync with her natural rhythm, but he worked diligently to find the exact pace and pressure that made her eyes flutter closed and her hips roll into his touch. He grinned wolfishly when he found it, a surge of pride settling warmly in his chest as she moaned.

She stopped suddenly and spread her legs further, and Killian groaned as he felt her rub along his straining erection. With just a tilt of her hips he could press inside of her so easily, and he ached to feel her wrapped around him. But he wanted to give her the chance to change her mind. So he watched her intently, waiting for her next move, not realizing that he was holding his breath - praying she didn't leave him like this.

She leaned down once more, pressing herself into his chest, bringing her lips to his ear in a whisper, still aware of their precarious situation and the need to stay hidden and silent.

"I want you inside of me, Killian, but we have to stay quiet." She wriggled a bit on top of him, her core still searching for that delicious friction she needed so badly. "Can you stay quiet?"

His adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes wild with need while he contemplated her question. The truthful answer was that he had no idea if he would be able to stay quiet. But he also couldn't bear to say no, he was so far gone for her. He felt like he would die if he didn't have her right now, and if he did - he may get them both killed anyway with his inability to keep quiet.

His voice was shaky when he finally answered, "I don't know."

She pushed herself up, splaying her hands across his chest to steady herself and pursed her lips in thought for just a moment before making her decision.

"I'll risk it," she said definitively, before snaking her hands between them, grasping him firmly and guiding him to her. She swept the tip of him through her folds several times, gathering the wetness and coating him generously before sinking down slowly, letting him slip in inch by inch until he was entirely lost inside her.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw muscle ticking at the strain of holding back the dam of pleasure that was threatening to burst. She tried to stay as still as possible, allowing him to enjoy the sensation while she adjusted to his generous size. Even without movement he was stretching her deliciously, and it was an exquisite kind of torment not to simply ride him into oblivion and chase her own ecstasy.

She looked down at him, finding his face serious and focused, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, eyes a gorgeous stormy blue. She couldn't wait any longer, and she rolled her hips against him experimentally.

He grunted as his hips rocked up to meet her, the feeling of moving inside her nearly drowning him in pleasure as they found their rhythm together. She brought herself up high enough that he nearly slipped out of her, before falling back down - and each time felt like the first moment he pushed inside her tightly.

Though he loved the feeling of her taking her pleasure, letting her lead - the feral part of him could not be held back any longer. He wanted to claim her, show her just how much he wanted her. He reached around to grab her hips, holding her in place as he bucked up into her harshly, his fingers gripping her hard enough to leave bruises, but she didn't care one bit as he lost all self-control, slamming into her with such intensity that she was seeing stars.

Along with the steady pumping of his hips, he had started to use his hands to push her hips in tight circles on top of him, the pressure on her clit making those bolts of desire shoot through her, her orgasm coiling low in her belly as the pleasure steadily built.

She mewled and whimpered as he kept pace, knowing that she would fall over that edge any moment. He thought she was close, he could feel her inner muscles starting to flutter around him, which only made him all the more determined to see her fall. He changed the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly upward, and she yelped harshly as her orgasm started to course through her.

He quickly grabbed his shirt, laying on the floor nearby and brought it to her mouth - she held it in place to stifle her cries of bliss as she felt herself contract around him over and over. He continued slamming into her as her inner walls gripped him, the incredible push and pull proving to be too much as he felt the coil of his own desire snap. He felt himself stiffen impossibly further and he pushed in as deeply as he could before he started to spasm and pulse his release inside her each spurt accompanied by a low growl, which shifted into a spent groan as his own orgasm subsided.

They remained like that for a while, both just breathing heavily while their bodies calmed back down.

"That was…" Killian started, but found himself unable to properly describe the absolute bliss of what he'd just experienced. "Is it always that…"

"No," she cut him off, running her hand through his hair as she spoke. "It's not always like that. That was _really_ good."

Another surge of pride rushed through him. "Yeah?"

She chuckled at his uncertainty. "Yeah. Now what were you going to say when you came down here? Or is _this_ " she looked down their naked bodies "what you came for?"

He smiled broadly, "Believe me, lass, I had no idea this was going to happen. I just came down to check on you and tell you we'll be arriving in port shortly. That's what all the celebrating is about. You'll be free soon."

For as happy as he'd been just moments ago, he felt his heart drop into his stomach at the reality of her leaving. He didn't like the idea of not knowing what happened to her, not being there to protect her, though clearly she could handle herself well enough. She'd gotten under his skin in a way that nobody ever had - and he didn't know how he could stand to be without her now.

Her thoughts at that moment were similarly tinged with sadness. She knew she could make it on her own - she'd been on her own for years, but suddenly a life where she didn't know him didn't seem right. There was something about him that had changed her - a tiny bit of her armor falling away for the man who'd chosen to take care of her, even after she'd tried to ransom his life. She didn't know why, but she knew she didn't want to leave him.

"Come with me," the words fell from her mouth, unbidden, but not regretted. "Killian, you could come with me."

His immediate response was that it wasn't possible, he was the captain's slave - and therefore couldn't leave. But that was no longer true. He'd paid off his debt, and he was just a crewman now. He could leave, but he knew nothing of life apart from the sea, and he had hardly any money to his name. And yet, he couldn't say no to anything she asked.

"As you wish, love."

The next day they were in port, and when the crew had all taken up in the taverns and brothels, Killian snuck down to his hammock and grabbed his few belongings before pulling the hatch open to his sanctuary one last time. He smiled as he helped her out of the small room, letting the door fall closed, the faint lock clicking into place for the next man to find in a desperate time of need.

They stayed hidden in the town until the ship left the next day, and then they went about making themselves a new home - together.


	13. Cancer Fighting Fic 8 Part 1 of 3

He had no right to feel as strongly as he did. They hadn't known each other all that long, but ever since they pulled him out from under the pile of prone bodies back in the Enchanted Forest, he knew she was special. She was different.

Their time climbing the beanstalk had proven that he was right about her. She was both an open book and a lingering question mark to him. He could see the telltale scars of a child left alone for too long just as well as if they'd been brutally carved into her delicate skin, but whether she'd let him actually get to know her - that was still to be determined.

She had been distrustful at first. Something he really couldn't blame her for, given her past. Of course he was frustrated when she left him tied up with that giant, but he also smiled to himself at the fact that she didn't _actually_ leave him to die - and the tiniest bit of hope had started to grow in the empty cavern of his chest, where his heart would have been if he thought he still had one.

It was that hope that made him take it easy on her during their sword fight at the lake. He had to make it look believable of course, but he couldn't actually bring himself to duel in earnest. She didn't have the same reservations, and with a wicked smirk and an impressive punch - he found himself bested once again, and smiling about it.

After finding the way to Storybrooke with Cora, the pull of his bloodlust overpowered him. He'd managed to chase the Crocodile to New York City and finally sink his hook into the demon - relishing the feeling of victory, the shock on the coward's face as he realized the game was over. The elation lasted only seconds before the fierce blonde he'd been so intrigued by beat him over the head and stuffed him into a dark cupboard.

He awoke with both a raging headache, and even more of a crush. He mused to himself that he must be some kind of masochist to have feelings for this woman who kept hitting him and abandoning him without so much as a second thought. And yet he couldn't help but grin at the thought of her - even as he rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head.

They were kindred spirits, whether she knew it or not. It became all the more apparent during their adventures in Neverland, where his romantic interest turned from a passing fancy to a full-blown infatuation. Her presence was clouding his thoughts even more than the oppressive humidity, and as she kissed him passionately under the cover of the forest, he was forever changed.

For the first time in several lifetimes, he thought it was actually possible to fall in love again, not even necessarily with her - just in general. He admitted as much in the Echo Caves, but it was all in service of saving her former love (at least he hoped he could say "former"), which complicated things a bit.

He'd decided to give them a fair shot. He knew all too well what a broken family could do to a boy, and he wanted Henry to at least have a chance of his parents staying together - though he seriously doubted Emma would go back to Neal. Hey may not know the particulars, but he knew that he'd hurt her too much. That amount of emotional damage would be incredibly difficult to undo.

And so he found himself hoping, yet again. He knew the chances were slim. Despite his dashing good looks, he was still a ruthless pirate, and though he suspected her capable of being equally ruthless - she was a princess, and deserved much better than a scoundrel like him. But that didn't stop him from wanting her. Desperately. And there was at least some small piece of her that was interested - their kiss in Neverland was evidence of that.

And then Pan's curse came billowing toward them and they all started to exchange goodbyes. Though he felt a bit like an interloper in the midst of all of the familial hugs, he stole a moment with her, willing himself to choke out a joke about her vibrant vehicle to lighten the mood as he tried to memorize every detail of her face. But he couldn't keep the levity up for long before his gaze turned reflective and serious.

"There's not a day will go by I won't think of you," he admitted quietly. He didn't expect reciprocation, and he knew she wouldn't remember this in a few moments, but he needed to say it all the same.

"Good."

His face lit up instantly. Lips curling into a gentle smile as hers ticked up ever so slightly at the edges, despite the sadness in her eyes from all of the emotional goodbyes.

The one word should have been enough to sustain his hope, but he felt it getting choked out just the same. She was leaving them behind, taking her boy to safety across that town line - and it felt like someone's nails were digging into the soft flesh of his heart as they squeezed relentlessly.

He watched the black tires roll across the crudely painted line showing the edge of the magical town, and as the curse wrapped itself around them, he was suddenly unable to breathe. The colorful smoke burned acridly in his lungs, his eyes stinging with either the grit of the magical fog or with tears he hadn't meant to shed.

The realization hit him so forcefully in that moment that he couldn't ignore it. He was in love with her, and unwilling to live a life without her - so he stumbled blindly across the line just moments before everyone else was sucked back to the Enchanted Forest.

* * *

With a loud pop he was standing in the middle of an unfamiliar road with absolutely no idea how he got there. It was the strangest feeling, suddenly appearing somewhere without any memory of what happened. He slowly made his way to the edge of the road and sat down on a fallen tree to catch his breath and get his wits about him.

He raked a hand through his hair, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he focused on sifting through his thoughts and memories. It came back in flashes - waiting out the curse with Cora, pretending to be a blacksmith, Snow White, Emma Swan, the beanstalk, the compass…

They fought, he lost, Cora found another way (as she always does.) He remembered standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger - the proud ship creaking and swaying beneath him as they dove headlong into a swirling vortex headed to… somewhere. But then it all went black.

There were a few moments where he's in an incredibly strange place - gigantic square buildings that look to be made of glass rather than stone, finding the Crocodile, stabbing him with his poisoned hook, and then nothing. None of this makes sense…

He stood up and stretched, trying to shake off the itchy feeling that such an unsettling change in circumstances brings. One thing was for sure, he was not going to get any answers standing in the bloody forest.

Back at the road he looked left and right, trying to decide which direction to go. Both seemed to look exactly the same, but for some strange reason he felt compelled to go to the right, setting off at a steady but unhurried pace to nowhere in particular.

The longer he walked, the more things come into focus, - though, as the pieces fill in, he realized that there are specific _chunks_ of his memory missing. After fighting with the heroes he was standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger with Cora, then nothing. Then he's somewhere in the Land Without Magic, stabbing the Dark One. Emma yells and hits him, then nothing.

He continues to search his thoughts until he finds something new - he's back on the Jolly, trying to steady the ship as it comes out of what must have been one hell of a storm. As the ship settles he can see he's not with his usual crew, but rather Snow White, Prince Charming, Emma, the Evil Queen and… the Crocodile.

He seethes with anger at the memory - as if he's upset about his own apparent betrayal, for letting the demon aboard his ship. He briefly wonders how he's even alive, given that he recalled stabbing him with his dreamshade-laced hook. Nobody could survive that - not even the Dark One.

And yet, the memory was clear: they were headed to Neverland to save Emma Swan's son - Baelfire's son.

He'd done that boy a great injustice by not coming back for him, by giving him up to Pan - perhaps that's why he'd joined forces with the heroes, to quell his longstanding quilt over Bae by helping to save his son.

But he still wasn't sure that was quite enough to get him to work alongside the Crocodile. There was absolutely nothing more that he wanted in the world than to see that man suffer - but there must've been something that made him set that aside for a time.

A mere moment later another memory flooded his senses without warning. Emma was tugging on his lapels, pulling him into a searing kiss after he helped spare the Prince an ugly death by dreamshade (which brought up another memory he preferred not to linger on). His heart swelled at the possibilities hidden in their passionate kiss, the way she moved against him felt so right.

The rest of their time in Neverland filled in quickly: the caves, saving the boy, trapping Pan - getting back to the ship. Yet again, he found himself standing on the Jolly Roger, headed… somewhere, with the successful band in tow. He knew it wasn't the Enchanted Forest - it was somewhere in the Land Without Magic, but he couldn't for his life remember where.

And since that was the last thing he could recall, he figures that must be where he is. He must be in the Land Without Magic. But then where was everyone else? Where was the Jolly? Most importantly, where was Emma?

He was unsure if his navigational skills were as accurate in this realm as they are in his own. He used the path of the sun to get his bearings, and continued to cut a path Southwest. After a few hours he came upon a town, disengaging and tucking away his hook before finding a curious little tavern of sorts (apparently it's called a diner), where they looked at him strangely and whispered to themselves.

He's fairly used to be people staring at him, it's ordinarily out of fear, his cutthroat reputation preceding him. But this is different. He doesn't fit in - his clothes don't look anything like what they're wearing. They all look much more like Emma Swan than himself or the Evil Queen - and he knows his time here needs to be brief.

He chatted quickly with the proprietor and discovered he was in a small town in a place called Maine, but it isn't until the kindly old woman mentions her daughter in New York City that something clicks.

That's it. That's the name of the place he went before - that's where he should go.

"How can I get there?" he cut her off harshly with his enthusiasm.

"What, to New York?" she was ruffled by his rudeness, but answered anyway.

"Aye."

"Do you have a car?" Her glance drifted down to his missing hand, unsure if he could even legally drive one handed.

He scratched behind his ear nervously at the scrutiny.

"My current, uhm, means of transportation are limited."

"Well it's gonna take more than walking if you want to get there this month. How about money, do you have money?" She added.

"Aye." He pulled a few coins from his satchel and the way her eyes widen tells him that his gold is just as valuable here as it was in the Enchanted Forest.

"A bit unorthodox, but I can make that work." She smiled at him and tells him to stay put. She comes back with some papers, telling him to wait at the corner, and when the bus pulls up, he should get aboard and show the attendant this paper. The rest he'll have to navigate on his own - there will be a few vehicle changes, but so long as he keeps these papers and follows their directions, he'll get there alright.

He leaves her with a stack of coins that would've bought him a month's worth of rum back in the Enchanted Forest, assuming it more than covered whatever expenses she incurred to arrange his travels - and the way she smiled and waved at him as the bus departed ensured him that she felt her payment was ample.

The bus was surprisingly comfortable. There weren't very many other passengers, so he got to stretch out a bit - his tired legs glad for the rest. But it didn't take long from him to drift off to sleep, the rumbling movements of the vehicle oddly reminiscent of his beloved ship.

Though the journey had been relatively easy, he was still quite happy to see the familiar buildings of the city come into view. He had no idea how he was going to accomplish it, but he knew he had to find Emma Swan, and something told him she was here.

Curiously, he found himself fitting in much more easily in New York City than he did in the small town in Maine. As he wandered the streets, waiting for something spark his recollections, it became apparent that the people here just went about their own business - no lingering glances at his attire, no hushed whispers at his missing hand, nobody even noticed him.

There was an impressive fountain made of stone, and as he stopped to admire it several children ran past him - pressing as closely as possible to the pool's edge before squeezing their eyes shut for a few moments and tossing a coin into the water. He'd heard of children doing something similar at the "wishing wells" back in his land, and he smiled at the resemblance.

It was then that he noticed it - the sign for Wooster St. That's where he went when he came here before. With a renewed sense of direction he strode down the street, searching for the next clue. Within a few minutes he found the building, but he stood just inside the doorway, staring dumbly at the staircase and a horrible sinking feeling set in as he realized the trail went cold here. This is the last thing he remembered before Emma knocked him out. He's truly on his own from here on out.

He scrubbed his hand along the scruff at his jaw, determined to solve this riddle and find Emma - to make sure she's alright. To make sure her boy is alright. To be perfectly honest, he would be happy to find out that the Crocodile didn't survive the trip - but everyone else was important to her, and therefore they were important to him.

He shuffled through his addled memories to his first trip here. Why would the Dark One come here in the first place? Why would someone so determined to keep his magical edge, want to come to a land _without_ magic? And why would Emma come with him?

He'd been chasing the Crocodile long enough to know him better than anyone else alive, and there was only one thing in the world that came as a close second to his love of power - and that was his his son, Baelfire.

The pieces shifted into place as Killian recalled Bae's hatred of magic, the way he blamed magic for turning his father into a power-hungry monster. Bae obviously found a way to come to the Land Without Magic, where he met Emma - where they fell in love. The bile bubbled up in his stomach with petty jealousy over Bae's time with her, and he did his best to ignore it in favor of figuring out where to go next.

Rumplestiltskin must've found out that Baelfire lived here, in New York City - and so he came to find him, using Emma as a guide in the unfamiliar territory. This building was either where they stayed while they searched, or where Baelfire lived.

Regardless - it was a start, but he couldn't very well just knock on every door in the entire building. At one point or another,someone would have to enter or exit the building - and he resolved to stay close by and keep watch, determined to find out what had brought them here, what had happened, and if Emma was alright.

* * *

Emma hummed along with Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" as Henry diligently watered plants. If you would've told her all those years ago, when she was pregnant and alone and terrified, that she'd wind up being a successful single mother and bail bondsperson - she would've laughed in your face. And yet, here they were. They were both resilient, strong, smart - and horribly late.

"OK kid, while I appreciate the effort, the plants will wait, but your bus won't. You're gonna be late for school."

He rolled his eyes at her as he put the watering can on the counter next to the sink. That was one of those traits she wished he hadn't gotten from her, but there it was.

"Not nearly as late as you are for work," he teased her as he grabbed his backpack.

"Yeah, yeah," she called to him as she pulled on a pair of boots. "But I'm still gonna make it out the door before yo-"

The sound of the door snapping shut made her shoulders slump in defeat as she pulled her phone out to send him a text.

 _ **It's rude to leave without saying goodbye, you know.**_

She'd barely had time to grab her keys before her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

 _ **It's also rude to be late - keep that in mind when you see Walsh for dinner tonight. You can't be your regular self until at least date #3.**_

 _That snarky little_ \- the phone buzzed again almost immediately.

 _ **But in the spirit of good manners, "Bye, mom" love you**_

As much as she wanted to be annoyed with him, she just ended up chuckling and typing out a quick "love you, too" before heading out the door herself.

Her boss, Cleo, always said that it wasn't all about dramatic chases through the busy city streets, that the real work of finding a skip is done at the desk from nine to five - which, to be honest, was the part of her job she liked the least.

But she was good at it. She had an uncanny ability to track people down, and she always found her mark. Desperate to avoid yet another lecture on the importance of the daily grind, she ran most of the way to work, sliding into her desk just a moment before Cleo came around the corner with her morning coffee.

The rest of her work day passed without incident. As much as she hated to admit it, her boss was right - the hours spent at her laptop had proven to be incredibly productive. With just a little bit of Facebook and Instagram searching she'd found out more about her skip than she ever could have just by hitting the streets.

Turns out Josh Croft has a boyfriend who doesn't know (or doesn't care) to turn off his geotagging, so she's got a pretty good idea of which street they live on - and with a good old-fashioned stakeout, she could figure out their building in no time.

She took a quick look at her phone and figured she had enough time to scan the general area for a few minutes to see if she could catch either of them coming or going. Taking another look at the location tags she scrawled the most likely address onto a post it - Wooster St.

In a few short minutes she was sitting out on the patio at an annoyingly hipster coffee shop, pretending to be playing with her phone, but mostly keeping an eye out for Josh or his boyfriend. She could only spare another 10 minutes or so, but even if she didn't see them today, she knew this was a big break in the case.

At any rate, the people-watching was always fun. She could glean so much about someone with just a quick up-and-down glance. That woman shuffling her feet in close little steps, the one wearing form-fitting yoga pants and a "long hair don't care" t-shirt effortlessly draped over one shoulder, hair pulled up into a messy bun? She spent an hour and half creating that "look" and has never done a minute of yoga in her life. That guy in the impeccably tailored suit with a pound of product in his hair? He's lying through his teeth to whoever is on the other end of that phone call.

Her eyes kept scanning the sidewalk, taking mental notes about everyone who passed - that is, until she saw him. At first she almost laughed, he was dressed in this completely outrageous long leather jacket (which must have weighed 50 pounds), with black leather pants that hugged his lean legs just perfectly, a black leather vest that cut a deep v into his broad chest, showing off a smattering of crisp hair. It was like pirate-obsessed Depeche Mode fan had dressed him.

But the more she watched him, the more she didn't feel like laughing. Despite the admittedly ludicrous outfit, the man was drop-dead gorgeous. His inky dark hair was disheveled just the right amount, his jawline strong and set hard as he was lost in thought, fiercely blue eyes seeing just enough in front of him to avoid running into people, but clearly his mind was somewhere else.

To be fair, with him looking like that - all black leather and fierce determination, her mind was quickly wandering somewhere else as well… She licked her lips subconsciously before shaking her head to ward off the thoughts.

 _Shit. Walsh._

The time on her phone showed that she was about to be late - and Henry would never live that down. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and he did give her a great deal on that end table, but she still wasn't sure how she felt about him. Henry had insisted that's what dating is for anyway.

She pushed her chair back hastily as she stood and run back to her yellow bug - firing up the engine and pulling away from the curb just as the man was finally pulled from his thoughts.

Their eyes caught for only a second or two, but the look on his face wasn't one that she would easily forget - it was like her knew her. Like he recognized her somehow. His lips were parted ever-so-slightly as if there was a question perched delicately between them, ready to fall in just a moment. But she couldn't wait to figure out what it was and with another turn of the wheel she was gone.


	14. Cancer Fighting Fic 8: Part 2 of 3

It was her. He'd seen her only for a few seconds, but it was her. She was in quite the hurry, and as she turned her bright yellow car around the corner he took off at a dead sprint to try to keep a line of sight on her, not even bothering to apologize as a few passersby hurled foul insults at him for jostling them as he ran. He couldn't lose her again.

His boots were pounding relentlessly against the hard sidewalk as he struggled to keep pace - if it weren't for the fact that there were so many vehicles blocking her path he would've lost her several blocks back. Luckily, she didn't appear to be going far, and in a few more blocks she pulled into a garage underneath a building that looked similar to the one he'd just left.

He spotted the watchman on guard, and didn't want to chance getting thrown into the brig for trespassing, so he sat on a nearby bench and caught his breath while he formulated his plan. A few minutes passed before he saw her again, this time coming out the front door of the building.

She was an absolute vision in a tight black leather dress and tall heels, golden waves flowing easily across her shoulders as she strode down the street. His heart leapt at the sight of her and he was just about to call out her name to get her attention when a man snaked his arm around her slim waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

He actually physically recoiled at the gesture, disgust washing over him as he anxiously (hopefully) awaited some brash response on her part to prove that the attention was unwanted, but instead she just smiled - albeit a little stiffly. It was like he'd been punched in the gut, all of the air whooshing from his lungs as his heart fell just as quickly as it had risen just moments before.

The most confusing part is that the man wasn't Baelfire. He was clearly someone different, someone new. But if she was acting so familiar with this man, where was Bae?

He pushed aside the jealousy that had bubbled up, and resolved to get some answers - _now_. He followed them for another block or two before they turned into a restaurant. He watched them closely, waiting for the man to step away from the table, even for a moment so that he could approach her without causing too much of a disturbance.

The pride that welled up as he noted that she seemed bored, even slightly annoyed as the meal went on may have been petty, but it cheered him nonetheless. He knew that look, and in fact, he'd been on the receiving end of it early in his acquaintance with her.

The man stood up, and excused himself, and Killian saw his opportunity. He walked purposefully between the tables, planting himself in the man's seat quickly.

"Swan, how -" he started, but the words quickly died on his lips when he saw alarm written in her features, her fingers tightly grasping her knife. "Easy there, lass."

"Who are you and how do you know my name?" Her voice was cold as ice and just as sharp. There was no recognition of their shared past, no recognition of him at all.

 _She really would make a helluva pirate._

"Killian Jones, and we met some time ago. We once were enemies, but since have become… complicated."

"Oh come on. I think I'd remember someone like you." She nodded to his attire, which was admittedly a bit out of place.

"Always nice to make an impression," he hadn't meant to lace the words with quite so much innuendo, but he couldn't help himself around her.

She rolled her eyes, but didn't loosen her grip on the knife.

"Look buddy, I don't know what your deal is, but the first time I saw you was earlier today outside the coffee shop. If I see you again I'm calling the cops."

This is not how he imagined things going. Why didn't she remember him? What went wrong? Where was everyone else? Regardless, she was the only member of the party he'd seen at all - so he desperately needed to get her to trust him, to get some answers.

"Swan, please - use your superpower. I'm not lying. You _know_ me." His voice cracked in desperation as she narrowed her eyes and considered his plea.

He didn't seem to be lying, that's true, but with his innuendo and ridiculous getup, the only conclusion she could draw is that he was a crazy stalker. But that didn't change the fact that something in her gut made her feel like she could trust him.

"Just because you're not lying, doesn't make it true." She finally said, relaxing her grip slightly and leaning back a little in her chair. He seemed harmless, really, just crazy.

"Fair point, lass - but it is true, nonetheless, and I can prove it. You have a son named Henry. His father's name is… Well I knew him as Baelfire, but you know him as Neal," he thought that by mentioning them, he could prove that they'd met before, maybe spark something in her memory.

Her face blanched at the mention of Neal, and he could practically see her walls being built up again.

"Did he put you up to this? How does he even know where we are?" She sounded frightened and his heart broke for her. He'd known that she and Bae had a tempestuous past, but the extent wasn't clear to him until her panicked reaction just now. There was a lot more hurt there than she'd let on in Neverland.

Clearly Neal wasn't with her now - which meant he had a lot of work ahead of him to figure out what went wrong in the portal. And what if all of their memories had been altered as well? And why were his relatively intact? Or maybe - he felt sick at the thought - maybe his memories weren't actually intact at all.

On top of all that, he needed to get out of here before her companion returned (not that he would mind upsetting that fellow, maybe even starting a bit of a scuffle), but it was apparent she wasn't in a rush to believe him. He needed a new strategy, and quickly.

The plan came together in a flash. He didn't like the idea of lying to her, what with her super power and all - but he hoped that his acting skills could get him through it. He'd learned how to bluff quite well many years ago - a keen skill for a pirate captain.

He sighed heavily. Scrubbing his hand over his face as if he'd been caught.

"Aye, lass. That he did. He just wanted to 'test the waters' as it were, see how you felt. Judging by your reaction, I think I know what to report back. I apologize for inconveniencing you, and I'll leave you to your evening. I'm sure your companion will be back any moment."

He gave her his absolute best puppy-dog eyes, as he slumped his shoulders in mock-defeat - trying to make himself as pitiable a sight as possible, hoping that he'd read her correctly, that she still had a soft side for the downtrodden, the beaten.

"Wait," she sighed. "First of all, the least you can do is answer some of my questions - since you ruined my date and all." She squared her shoulders and sat up straighter as she made her demand. It took everything in his power not to smile at his success. "And secondly, I'd like nothing more than to not be here when this guy gets back."

"As you wish." He said simply, not wanting to push his extraordinarily good luck with further comment. He extended his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, and she flashed him a look that said "Really?" before ignoring him and walking herself straight out of the restaurant.

The grin he'd been working so hard to suppress finally broke out, and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. Fiery as always.

Henry had made plans to stay with a friend tonight - not wanting to chance Emma using him as an excuse to skip out on the date early, but apparently his buddy had come down with a nasty stomach bug. He'd insisted his video games were the perfect babysitter, and he'd be fine for a few hours. The kid had taken all too much of an interest in her love life, but she had to admit that she liked his independent streak.

She wanted to keep grilling this Killian guy about Neal, and she knew if she came home too early Henry would know she bailed on the date, so they landed at a nearby cafe. Emma got a black coffee, and offered to pay for his beverage of choice. She laughed heartily at his obvious confusion at the menu - bumbling his way through a bunch of questions until finally managing to order a regular black tea.

"What's the deal, no Starbucks in Canada?" She teased him, sipping from her steaming paper cup.

"I'm sorry?" His brow wrinkled in confusion. He was fidgeting with the small sack that held the tea leaves, intrigued by such a clever infusion solution.

"Guess I just assumed Canada because last I heard, that's where _he_ was."

"Oh, uhm. No. I'm not from… Canada." He said dumbly, the foreign word tumbling from his tongue clumsily.

"OK, so, how do you know him?" She started in on the questions quickly. He didn't miss the fact that her demeanor was all business, and she'd intentionally avoided using Bae's name.

"I met him years ago. Taught him to sail." He tried to say things what were, in fact, true. Hoping that would help him to keep from triggering her super-power. She seemed satisfied in the answer.

"And you're, what, some kind of themed-boat-excursion guy? I mean, that's obviously a costume," she said, gesturing to his clothes.

"Aye - pirate themed," he agreed. He wasn't even aware that themed-boat-excursions existed until that very moment, but he figured he could play along. She just nodded. He wasn't terribly comfortable with her leading the conversation like this. He needed to get her off balance a little - keep her from zeroing in on the fact that we wasn't being entirely truthful.

"And is the accent real, or is that part of the show as well?"

His lip quirked upward, "Quite real, I assure you. As is the rest of me, in case you were wondering." He leaned back in his seat, spreading out confidently, giving her quite the eyeful if she'd just let herself look, but she remained steadfast - eyes trained on the paper cup.

He had to confess he was a little disappointed that his usual distraction tactics weren't working - she was all too focused on her goal.

"How did he find me?" She continued.

"I don't know." That was true, after all. Again, she silently considered his reply for several moments, until she seemed to determine he wasn't lying.

"So he knows about Henry," she said, more as a statement than a question, but he answered her just the same.

"Aye. He knows. He didn't always, but he found out. I don't know when or how."

She seemed lost in thought for a long while, chewing on her bottom lip absentmindedly as she put the pieces together.

"What the hell was your game plan, anyway - crash my date, act like a stalker, drop Neal's name, I'd go all weak in the knees at the mere mention of him and we'd live happily every after?" She took another sip of her coffee while she waited for his reply.

Killian cycled through several responses, trying to find one that was both plausible and as true as possible. It was clear that her memory had been altered, and there was only one way that he knew to remedy that situation. He needed to find a potion.

Well, for the moment he just needed to buy himself enough time to find a potion. And with that, the game was truly on.

He laughed, schooling his features into a mask of embarrassment.

"Truth is, love," he leaned in closer to her as he spoke, his vibrant blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I didn't have much of a plan, and I'm not in the least surprised at your reaction. A woman as beautiful as you deserves to be fought for in person, with _vigor_."

The way that final word rolled from his tongue was damn near lewd, and she huffed at him, but also blushed almost imperceptibly. She should be annoyed by it, she should find it skeazy. This guy was supposedly Neal's friend or something and here he is throwing lines. And yet…

She knew he was lying, the flirtation was a front. She knew that he had fully believed what he was saying at the restaurant, but he thought this was a better tactic. He was hiding something, and she was going to figure out what it was.

Sipping her coffee, she eyed him warily. He was handsome as hell, she had to give him that. Even in this absurd outfit he was pure sex. The deep v of his neckline, the way the leather clung to his thighs, the slightly mussed hair.

"What kind of guy says that kind of thing to his friend's…" she struggled to find the correct word. "His friend's ex or whatever."

She shot him an accusing glare, the hints of triumph curling the edges of her lips already.

"If you have any interest in rekindling your relationship with B-, I mean, with Neal," he corrected himself. "Then I would step aside, of course, for the sake of the lad. He deserves the chance to have his father in his life. Not everyone gets the chance to have their family be whole again."

In that instant she saw that even if she hadn't met him before, she _knew_ him. That was the look of a man who'd been left alone for too long. That was a lost boy. They were kindred spirits in that sense, and with that - the first brick fell from the walls around her heart.

Looking into his eyes as he spoke so genuinely, it was like she was looking right through him, seeing every past hurt, every insecurity.

Her gaze was so intense he thought for a moment that maybe she was starting to remember. She looked at him as if she understood - but it didn't last long.

He continued soberly, "But, I don't think that's what you want. Is it?"

She watched him intently, and then shook her head from side to side - the movement was soft, but definitive.

"Besides, lass" he turned the charm back on full blast. "I love a challenge."

Just then her phone started buzzing loudly on the table, startling them both enough for a bit of Killian's tea to slosh out onto his thigh.

It was a text from Henry.

 **Henry: Sorry to bug you. Don't freak out, but do we have a fire extinguisher?**

"OH MY GOD" she practically shouted it, but she couldn't hear herself over the buzzing in her ears created by the words on her screen.

Her mind raced as images of fire lapping at the walls of their apartment flashed before her eyes. Henry coughing and sputtering in the smoke, arms outstretched, trying to feel his way out - they hadn't been at this apartment long enough to practice their fire escape plan.

God, she was the worst mother in the world.

She stood up so quickly that her chair skittered backward loudly, almost toppling over as the other patrons gasped and stared at her. She didn't say a word. Didn't even look back at Killian - she just took off.

"Swan?!" He immediately chased her. Whatever happened had her worried out of her mind. She was absolutely terrified, and if she was headed into trouble, he couldn't let her go alone.

It only took a few of his long strides to catch up with her.

"What is it, what's wrong?" He said, keeping pace with her as she tapped on her phone.

She held it up to her ear and took and glanced over at him - her response a single word.

"Henry."

His stomach dropped so hard and fast that he actually tripped over his own feet, fumbling for a few steps before finding his stride again. He prayed to every God he could think of that the boy was alright. He didn't even know what was wrong, but he knew the kinds of trouble that kid got himself into.

"Henry?! Thank God. Are you OK? Did you call 911?" She was still running as fast as she could, Killian keeping up with her just fine.

"Mom, calm down! Are you running?! I'm fine! Nothing's on fire! I swear, I'm fine!" Henry's voice rang through clearly on the line, and Emma's footfalls slowed down a bit as she realized he really was OK.

"What the hell, kid?! I thought you were burning alive! What's this about a fire extinguisher?!"

"I'm just writing about one in a story and I wanted to look at it so I could describe it right! I told you not to freak out!"

She exhaled a long deep breath - one that she hadn't realized she'd been holding for the better part of the distance home.

"I know, but you can't just text something like that, kid! I'm almost home," Henry started to protest but Emma cut him off, her hand waving animatedly as her jog turned into a walk. "No. I'm coming home. No arguing. And we're going to have a nice long family meeting about phone etiquette."

"Fine. Sorry to ruin your date mom."

The poor kid couldn't sound more deflated if he tried. And not in an obligatory "sorry" way, but a deeply considerate way that made her heart ache.

"It's alright. The date was a mess anyway. I'll tell you when I get home. See you in a minute."

It was only after she hung up that she realized Killian was still by her side. She admired the fact that even though he'd never met her son (well, OK, he _says_ he's met Henry…), he was still sporting the flushed cheeks and huffed breaths of a man who was running for his own life, his eyes still brightened by worry.

"What happened?" He said shortly.

"Just… Henry." She chuckled under her breath. How could she possibly explain that this was just so… so Henry. "He asked me if we have a fire extinguisher. I assumed he was burning alive. Turns out he's writing a story and he wanted to see it for reference."

That was certainly something Killian could understand. To him a "fire extinguisher" was a pail of water, but it was clear that it meant something very particular here.

"Hm. Well, I'm pleased the boy is safe."

She couldn't help but notice that he was still walking with her.

"You don't really need to… Uhm. I'm fine now. We're fine." Emma sputtered uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how to tell him that their conversation was over, the crisis was averted (or more accurately wasn't a crisis to begin with - but whatever.) But there was no recognition in his eyes of her hint.

"Where are you staying?" She said bluntly, hoping to point him in the right direction toward wherever he was staying. After the Starbucks incident it had become fairly obvious we wasn't accustomed to the city.

"Oh. I uh… hadn't quite figured that part out, actually." He scratched behind his ear nervously, an adorable tick that gave her butterflies like she was a teenager with a crush.

"The couch is pretty comfy - you can stay with us."

The words were out before she even had time to process what she'd just said. Her hand actually came up to cover her mouth reflexively as if it could stuff the words back into her before he heard them.

He hadn't seen her response - distracted by an impressive window display of a model ship in the hobby shop. _Pirate indeed_ , she laughed to herself at the wonder in his eyes.

"That's quite an imposition, Swan. I couldn't possibly…" his words trailed off as his gaze cast downward awkwardly.

She really shouldn't do this. He was a complete stranger. Well, pretty much a complete stranger, unless she believed his tale about them having met before. Which she didn't.

But still, there was something in her gut that said she should trust him. Something deep down told her that there was more to this than getting some information.

"Really. It's OK. It'll give me another chance to pump you for information about Neal." She teased.

With that he looked up at her and smiled genuinely before his lips turned ever-so-slightly in the direction of a wolfish grin.

"Lass, you can _pump_ me, as you so delicately put it, any time you wish, though I'd greatly appreciate you leaving Neal out of it."

She didn't even roll her eyes this time, but rather just laughed at his remark as she fished her keys out of her pocket as they climbed the stairs and reached her door. Before she could even use her keys she heard the latch flip and the door swung open.

"See, Mom! I'm fine!" Henry stood proudly in his flannel pajama pants and t-shirt, arms outstretched for her inspection before his eyes landed on Killian, looking him over curiously. "And you're not Walsh…"

Emma sighed exasperatedly as they made their way inside. "First of all, don't just open the door like that. We could have been anyone. Second of all, this is Killian Jones, he's crashing with us for the night."

Henry bristled at her chastising. "I knew it was you. I looked through the hole. And you literally just brought a stranger into the house, so…"

"Well you're quite the spitfire aren't you?" Killian smirked at the defiant teenager standing in front of them. He seemed impossibly taller and more grown up than the last time he'd seen him, only… what was it? Days ago? A week? More? With their altered memories it was difficult to tell. Henry grinned in response, clearly taking the comment as a compliment.

"He's not a stranger. I told you, his name is Killian Jones." Emma couldn't believe she was trying to argue with him about this. He _was_ a stranger, after all. But she really couldn't tell Henry that.

"He's an old friend, alright? He went through a nasty breakup and he's crashing on the couch for now. That enough information for you, detective?" She teased him, hoping that would do the trick.

"I'm just trying to play by your rules is all, mom. And normally, bringing home a rogue…" he looked Killian up and down, searching for the right word, "pirate or whatever, would be against the rules."

Killian stood a little taller under Henry's gaze before jumping into the fray.

"Lad, I admire the veracity with which you aspire to adhere to your mother's regulations and I will happily submit to any level of questioning you require to determine if I'm suitable for lodging in your fine home."

Henry and Emma just stared at him in stunned silence. Who actually speaks like that? They both looked at each other with arched eyebrows before bursting into raucous laughter. With their eyes crinkled, doubled over as they enjoyed a good giggle at his expense - the family resemblance was quite striking.

Killian huffed in annoyance.

"Well I'll assume that means I've passed the test, as it were. Nice to meet you, Henry."


	15. Cancer Fighting Fic 8: Part 3 of 3

They stayed up for another couple of hours (much later than Henry's bedtime) sprawled out on the couch, just drinking hot cocoa and getting to know each other. Actually, Emma was having Killian's share of cocoa after he insisted it was far too sweet - his nose crinkling adorably in disgust as the saccharine concoction hit his lips.

After learning that Killian was a sailor, Henry's eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. Emma had changed into a pair of yoga pants and a gray v-neck while her son peppered the poor man with what seemed like a million questions. He was an unfailingly curious kid, and Killian was a natural storyteller.

About an hour into their chatting Henry had brashly asked what had happened to Killian's hand. He'd flinched at the question, and Emma's brows knit in confusion before she looked down to realize that he was wearing a glove on one hand, and it was unnaturally stiff - clearly a prosthetic. How did she miss that?

She chided him for his bluntness, saying that you don't just ask people things like that, but Killian insisted it was alright. He was intentionally vague about what had happened, simply that he lost it in an altercation of sorts many years ago.

Henry took the answer in stride, but Emma's stomach churned at the obvious dodge - there was clearly a lot more to that story. The emotional pain of it was written into his tight-lipped smile as he continued to answer Henry's questions about the sea and his ship. Even the shadows of the physical pain were evident in the way he rolled his shoulder back a few times on that side, and she imagined he was mentally clenching and unclenching the fist of his phantom hand - willing those pains to subside.

Before long she was lost in another one of Killian's gripping tales of an adventure he'd had on the high seas, and in that moment she felt like a child again - content to be washed away with the melodrama of a bedtime story.

Between the two of them they easily would have been there all night, but Emma could see the telltale signs that Henry was fading, despite his enthusiasm.

"Alright, that's enough for now," she stood up and took their empty cups into the kitchen, pretending not to notice Henry making puppy-dog eyes at her. "C'mon. I already let you stay up later than usual. Don't fight it."

Killian tipped his head at Henry, as if to say "Listen to your mother," and the boy sighed dramatically before shuffling his way toward his bedroom.

"Night mom. Night Killian."

There was a strange fluttering in Emma's chest at the easiness of their interaction, and hearing her son say goodnight to Killian like that, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for this… well, let's face it, _stranger_ to be here - and for reasons she still couldn't quite figure out, it really did feel like the most natural thing in the world.

"You've raised a fine boy, Swan." Killian said wistfully over his shoulder from his place on the couch, as she moved to the kitchen and rinsed out their mugs. "He's certainly got quite the inquiring mind," he added with a light chuckle.

"Yeah, sorry about that, but that's just Henry." She finished up her task and came back to him, taking a seat on the far side of the sofa.

She'd learned quite a bit about him just through Henry's interrogation, but she felt this urge to continue their conversation from earlier. She told herself it was because she wanted to do more digging about Neal, but in reality, she wanted to get to know him better.

"So, I know all about your sailing background - but not much else," she started, fidgeting with the hem on her t-shirt.

"What would you like to know?" he asked softly, turning a little so that he could face her more easily.

She took a moment to contemplate him, seemingly comfortable answering whatever questions she could come up with, completely at ease with Henry. He just seemed to… fit, somehow. He had one arm draped over the back of the couch, his other at his side with his prosthetic resting stiffly on his thigh. Her gaze got caught there, and he sighed heavily as he noted the concern in her eyes.

"You want to know what really happened, then?" He sounded resigned, and she felt a pang of guilt for her curiosity, but nodded nonetheless.

"As I'm sure you're aware, I wasn't lying to your son, but I didn't tell the entire story. It's not exactly the kind of thing to tell a child at all, let alone just before he goes to bed." Killian scrubbed his hand over the scruff on his chin, his jaw ticking with tension as he allowed the memories to come back to him.

They were always there, of course, waiting just below the surface of his mind's usual occupations, ready to overtake him at any moment. He didn't often allow them to have free reign - not any more, anyway. He took a deep breath, and Emma was mesmerized by the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

"Long ago I met a woman named Milah," he began, his voice thick and low as he drudged up the demons of his past. "She was a fierce and beautiful woman, with an adventurous spirit and a vibrant soul. We fell in love very quickly, but she was already married. I was… less honorable than I strive to be now, and her marriage was of little consequence to me."

Emma nodded knowingly. She had seen this situation play out a million times through her work. Killian was the other man - husband finds out, gets upset.

"She wasn't in love with him, you see. He was a coward, and she was ashamed of him." Killian continued his explanation, and Emma could read the love and loss in his downcast expressions. "At any rate, Milah and I sailed together for eight years before her husband found us again. We tried to make a deal with him, get him to leave us alone. He agreed at first, but then he changed his mind."

"You lost more than just your hand that day." She said warily, preparing herself for the inevitable - this woman may not have gone back to her husband, but she clearly didn't stay with Killian either.

He'd slowed to a stop, eyes glassed over a little, as if he were back there - like he'd been transported from her living room back to that moment. He looked so… lost. So alone. Her chest ached in sympathy for him, even while her more rational mind told her that he hardly could have expected to sail off into the sunset with a married women and not face any repercussions at all.

She placed her hand tenderly atop his prosthetic, her pinky ever-so-lightly brushing against his thigh. The glancing touch snapped him out of the moment, and he cleared his throat before continuing.

"He killed her. Right in front of me. She died in my arms." His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to keep the powerful memories tamped down. Emma's face had blanched at his words - she knew whatever happened wasn't easy, but she wasn't expecting the story to be quite that dark.

"I'm so sorry…" she had no idea how to comfort him, but she desperately wanted to ease his pain.

"It was many years ago, love." He said dismissively.

"Maybe so, but it still sucks." She offered, moving her hand to gingerly squeeze his thigh in support.

"Aye, love, that it does."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and she couldn't help but feel like things were uneven - he had shared so much with her just then. It was clearly a pivotal moment in his life, and quite a tragic one at that.

Her own pain seemed smaller in comparison, but she felt compelled to share it nonetheless, simply so he knew that he wasn't alone.

"You know, my parents abandoned me by the side of the road," she blurted out without preamble. "They didn't even take me to a fire station or a hospital - just on the side of the road. I know it's not… not at all like what you went through, but I just mean… we all have baggage. Sometimes there are physical reminders" she swiped her thumb over the top of his prosthetic as she spoke, "and sometimes the scars are hidden somewhere else." At that, her eyes flick down to his chest, where his heartbeat is sure and steady, chugging on despite all of the pain, anxiety, and uncertainty in his life.

"I'm sorry, lass - about your family." His eyes find hers again and are shining with compassion. "But you have a son who loves you very much, and maybe someday you'll have more family than you'll know what to do with."

The thought is strangely comforting, and though she believes her family will likely consist of close friends rather than blood relatives, it's a soothing concept. It feels as if they've spent years on this couch, getting to know one another better than she knows any of her coworkers or the relatively few people she currently calls her "friends."

They fall easily into friendlier conversation, their discussion topics less about their tragic pasts and more about silly little things - how annoying it is that the man she's been searching for keeps slipping away, how well Henry is doing in school - particularly English. Eventually, they both find themselves wilting under the weight of such a long day.

Killian stood and and stretched, his mouth opening wide into a yawn.

"Ready for bed?" She asked him, standing to grab a few extra blankets from the basket next to the couch.

Killian's eyebrow quirked up and he looked over his shoulder toward Henry's closed door before turning back to her with a glint in his eye.

"Is that an invitation, Swan?" He teased, swaying his hips toward her a little as he dug his thumb into his belt, drawing her eyes downward.

Her gaze trailed the deep v of his neckline and settled where his hand had brought her attention, down toward his well-fitted (if slightly impractical) leather pants, and she swallowed thickly - her throat suddenly running dry.

There was no explanation for why she felt so drawn to him, like she'd known him for years, like they were, not friends exactly, but… something. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that they'd just spilled their guts to each other like teenagers. It was confusing, but not necessarily unwelcome, which only made her more unsettled by it. So, she did what she always does - tried to deflect.

"Please," she scoffed. "You couldn't handle it."

His teasing smile split into a wide grin, one that made him look almost boyish if it weren't for the sexually charged undercurrent. He stepped confidently toward her, his long coat swishing with each swaggering step, thumb still firmly locked at his belt buckle until he was mere inches from her - the heat radiating off his body in waves.

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he spoke lowly, popping the final T in a way that was both an innuendo and a challenge.

Something in her snapped, and in an instant she had reached up to grab the lapels of his ridiculous coat, tugging harshly to pull her lips to his in a bruising kiss. For a moment he just sat there, immobile and stunned as her lips found his - but as her tongue swiped against his bottom lip, wordlessly seeking access, he melted into her.

He breathed deeply as he opened for her, allowing their tongues to move against one another in a beautiful and passionate dance. He'd been kissed by plenty of women in his hundreds of years, but this… this was different. He was swaying on his feet, feeling dizzier with each passing second as if he'd been drinking rum since daybreak.

And then suddenly his mind was alight with unbidden flashes - images. Storybrooke. It all came rushing back as she continued to kiss him fiercely. His eyes popped open and he gasped as the memories started to fill in all of the time he'd been missing since he came through the portal.

He finally understood why she didn't recognize him, why she didn't remember - it was Regina. Regina had cursed her to wipe her memories of Storybrooke and replaced them with this life. His mind raced at the realization and its implications. It wasn't a "bad" curse, but it was a curse nonetheless, which meant it could be broken.

He couldn't be sure of her feelings, but he knew how he felt about her. And if she felt the same... If he could get her to remember him, even just a little - maybe their kiss could bring back her memories.

"Killian?" Emma's eyes were wide with fear as she looked him up and down, seeing the distress etched into his features. "Are you OK?"

He cupped the side of her face, seeing her now with _all_ of his memories, with a more complete picture of why he felt the way he did about her - it made this moment all the more important. He studied her face, every fleck of gold in her green eyes, every tiny freckle across the bridge of her nose, the pink tinge of her cheeks, slightly flushed with the intensity of their shared kiss.

"Never better, love" he said thoughtfully, bringing his lips to hers again - but this time very slowly, relishing every feeling, allowing it to wash over him.

She moaned and fell further into his embrace, bringing her hand to the back of his head and slipping her fingers through his thick hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp as she went. It felt heavenly to have her like this, and he poured all of his adoration into their kiss, focusing on the immensity of his feelings for her, as if somehow thinking hard enough about it would bring her memories back - which he realized was incredibly silly.

But then she jolted slightly, and froze. Every single muscle in her body tense as she inhaled sharply and stepped backward hastily, brow knit in thought and confusion. He couldn't read the expression there, beyond the obvious surprise.

"Swan -" he started, reaching out to her as he said it, voice laced with concern and hope. She looked up at him and something was different in her demeanor - he wasn't sure how, but she looked more like the Emma that he remembered.

"Killian," she said breathily as her eyes reached his. "Hook." She corrected herself, and smiled.

She remembered.

"Well, ordinarily, yes. But at the moment…" he lifted his prosthetic hand and laughed.

"You found me." Her tone was all seriousness and reverence. He nodded simply in return. "How are you here?"

He scratched behind his ear, and she smiled as she recognized his nervous little habit.

"Your realm may not have magic, love, but it does have this handy little thing called public transportation."

He was nervous. She didn't know why, but it was clear he didn't really want to tell her what had happened - but she had too many questions to let it be.

"Very funny. Seriously though, what happened with the curse? Where is everyone else? Mary Margaret, David… Neal."

He felt as if his heart dropped into his stomach, he wished he had an answer for her.

"I don't know, love. I assume they all went back to the Enchanted Forest, with the curse."

She eyed him curiously, still wanting to know how he got separated from the group.

"And why aren't you with them?"

He swallowed the lump that had taken up residence in his throat, and decided there was nothing for it. He'd just have to tell her the truth. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and looked her directly in the eye as he spoke.

"I couldn't." He halted there briefly, biting his bottom lip as he contemplated how best to continue. "I couldn't watch you leave. Just before the curse swept us all away, I… I crossed the line and followed you."

His answer didn't really provide any more insight, but rather brought forth a rash of new questions.

"But… you remembered me…" she started, trying to untangle the complicated web of magical rules and curse side-effects.

"Aye - but I didn't remember everything. Once I was across the line the last thing I recalled was leaving Neverland. It seems just my memories of Storybrooke were affected. I just had this… feeling. I knew I had to find you, make sure you and the lad were safe. Figure out what happened."

He could practically see her thoughts racing, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet while he awaited her response, half expecting her to dash to her room and leave him standing her like the lovestruck fool he was.

"Let me get this straight," she ran her hand through her hair as she spoke, pulling it over one shoulder. "You ran across a magical barrier that you _knew_ would strip you of your memories and leave you in a completely unfamiliar place, with absolutely _zero_ plan?"

He suddenly felt like he did when he was just a young boy, having been remiss in his duties on the ship - getting dressed down by his older brother for not thinking things through.

"Well, there wasn't much time for planning, what with the curse and all..."

She brushed off his comment, determined to get to the bottom of this - determined to figure him out. It was an incredibly reckless thing to do - he didn't know that he would just lose his memories of Storybrooke.

"Killian… why? Why would you do something like that?" Her gaze was laced with more worry than gratitude for him helping her to remember. And if she remembers, then she must feel _something_ for him. He didn't want to think too much about the implications of that, still too nervous about what they shared.

For all of his florid language, words were failing him at the moment. He simply looked at her purposefully, and tilted his head slightly to the side, as if to say "You know why."

Her heart was racing. Even though he hadn't said a word, she knew what he was saying. She knew what all of this meant. Not only did he hop across that town line without a second thought about what would happen to him, but when he kissed her, she remembered - like the curse was lifted. She gulped at the thought.

She couldn't deny she had feelings for him, and she had known for some time now that he was quite taken with her. But this was different. This was something powerful and deep. Something meaningful.

She expected to be frightened by it, to be consumed with worries about how Henry would feel about all of this, about Neal, about how this could be bad for so many reasons - primarily the fact that David would likely kill him if he found out about any of this. But, instead, all that she felt was an overwhelming warmth at his loyalty and his devotion.

"Thank you." She said simply, the words feeling small and insufficient as they left her tongue.

He just nodded to her curtly in acknowledgement, and set about laying the blanket out over the couch to settle in for the night.

As she watched him, she felt the overwhelming need to do something more, to say something more. She closed the distance between them and grabbed his hand as he was reaching for a pillow. He stiffened and took a deep breath, savoring the feeling and letting her lead their interaction. She tugged lightly to turn him toward her, her jade eyes shining with wonderment and gratitude. The sight made his chest ache with sentimentality - he was the cause of that, just knowing he caused that look made him feel like he could die happy.

She turned her back to him, but kept her grip on his hand as she led them to what he assumed was her bedroom. As soon as they were past the door she clicked it shut as quietly as possible, and pinned him up against it, shifting her weight forward onto her toes so she could reach his lips better. He opened for her immediately this time, tongues sliding against one another as her chest continued to press into his while their heads tilted back and forth, exploring each other from every angle.

His good hand came up to run his fingers through her golden hair, toying with the soft strands as he followed them downward. His touch trailed down to her narrow waist, then along the flare of her hip, following that curve along to her back. When she moaned into his mouth he smiled and cupped her backside harshly, pulling her further into him and sending a wave of pleasure racing down his spine and straight to his hardening length.

"Emma," he sighed breathily. He sounded completely wrecked. And she couldn't blame him, she felt exactly the same.

She slipped her hands under his coat, rubbing at his shoulders as she pushed the coat over his arms and down to the ground, their lips never separating for more than a breath or two as she worked the fastenings of his waistcoat. When she started to fumble with his belt buckle he gripped her arm and pushed her back enough to look her in the eyes.

"Are you sure?" He searched her features for any hesitation - knowing if he found even the slightest bit of unease he would put an end to this, even if it meant spending an incredibly uncomfortable few hours on the couch waiting for his body to calm down.

She nodded assuredly and continued her work, getting the belt buckle off quickly now that her hands weren't at such an awkward angle. Once it had dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, she pulled her t-shirt up over her head in one quick motion, noticing the way Killian's eyes darkened at the sight.

She smiled coyly as she took advantage of his slightly stunned state by stepping backward again, the backs of her knees bumping against the edge of her bed. She slipped the straps of her bra down slowly, reaching behind her back to undo the clasp there. She kept her arm held over her chest, holding the fabric up for just a moment longer while she watched his chest rise and fall heavily at the display she was putting on.

She smiled at him as she dropped the fabric, allowing his eyes to rove her body hungrily for a few moments before leaning over teasingly to push her yoga pants and her panties down her legs, kicking them off quickly and coming back up to find him practically drooling, his jaw slack but his eyes fierce.

"Seven hells, lass. You are absolutely gorgeous."

He closed the distance between them, pulling his waistcoat and shirt off as he took the few steps that had separated them. She held her hand out - jutting a finger into his chest to stop his movement, making a tsk tsk tsk sound.

"Not so fast, sailor. Let me look at you."

He couldn't deny her anything, and so he stopped and let her fingers work down the toned muscles of his chest and stomach, and then around his waist to his back as she walked behind him. She scratched lightly up his back, feeling the flex of his shoulders as he relaxed under her touch, her hands now moving down his arms until she hit the brace for his prosthetic.

She could feel him tense as she got closer to it.

"It's OK, Killian. Do you want to keep it on?" She soothed as she came back around to face him.

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and then shook his head from side to side, reaching over with his good hand to disengage the prosthetic, setting it aside.

"Are you sure?" he questioned again, suddenly self conscious with the reality of where this was headed.

He seemed so small in that moment. So unsure. It was a far cry from the braggard she'd become accustomed to, but she'd seen flickers of this man underneath all the dramatic flair. His discomfort made her all the more willing to be bold, as she found the words he needed to hear.

"Yes. I'm sure. I want you - just the way you are."

His heart swelled with pride and unbridled joy, and he practically pounced on her after that. Pressing his lips into hers so forcefully that the both fell backward on to the bed. She started to giggle, but it took only a few moments for him to have her panting with need. She was wriggling beneath him, rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to create some friction where her body was crying out for it.

She was impatient, and started to try to get at the laces of his pants, but the way he was pressing kisses down her chest, sucking a pert nipple into his mouth and lavishing it with his tongue. Her back arched up at the attention, and she whined into his hair.

"Need those off" she said shortly. His laughter sent hot little puffs of breath into the delicate skin between her breasts where his head remained nuzzled, and he looked up at her, eyes darkened with his arousal, but still glinting playfully at her insistence.

"Impatient, are we?" He teased her as he settled himself further back on the bed, until he reached the edge and could step down to the floor, where he deftly untied his laces and shimmied the leather down his legs. Emma sat up to get a better view, her knees still slightly spread from where they had splayed to accommodate his body just moments before, she propped herself up as she watched him divest himself of the final layer between them.

He stood before her proudly, his generous length bobbing free with the offending material now heaped on the floor with the rest of their clothes. He reached down and gave himself a few tugs, knowing all that while that she kept a close eye on him.

"See something you like, love?"

She wanted to huff in annoyance, but she was too far gone for that. So instead, she just licked her lips and slipped a hand between her legs.

"Why don't you see for yourself, Pirate."

The noise that came from him was something between a curse and a growl, and he was back on the bed, stalking over her in an instant. He let his hand take the place of hers, his fingers dragging through the moisture he found there.

"Bloody hell, lass." His cheeks turned ruddy as another wave of arousal flushed through him. "You're absolutely soaked."

She hummed and gently rocked her hips up into his hand as he leaned over her, pressing soft kisses to her collarbone and up her neck, her legs falling further open for him. For a while he just worked her like that, drawing feather-light circles on her most sensitive place - only stopping to dip down and pick up more of the wetness pooling between her legs.

She was writhing beneath him, both enraptured and frustrated by his pace. She wanted so much more, but she didn't want him to stop - caught in the swirling haze of passion that he'd created within her. He smiled down at her as her breathing became shallow, swiping his hand a little lower again, but this time teasing her entrance as he locked eyes with her and slipped two long fingers inside of her, curling them expertly to find that spot within her that made stars burst behind her eyes.

She scrambled further up on the bed, away from him - and his heart felt like it had fallen clear out of his chest and landed on the floor below with a crushing thud. He pulled back, still on his knees between her legs as he ran his hand through his hair roughly, screwing his eyes shut in frustration with himself for ruining this, for making her uncomfortable, for taking advantage.

"Lass, I'm sorry..." The apology came tumbling out of him before he could open his eyes to see that she didn't seem to be upset with him.

"Killian, sshh. That's not it. I just don't want it to end like that." She was practically purring at him as she sat up enough to splay her fingers over his racing heart, dragging them downward until they reached the thick patch of hair underneath his toned abs, leading down to his still erect length.

She wrapped her fingers around him, and he hissed at the contact, eyes popping open in a flash to stare down at her, still adjusting to the change in circumstances. She licked her lips and gave a few gentle tugs, just enough to make sure he understood that she didn't intend for this to end anytime soon.

"Lie back, Killian." She said sweetly, bringing her other hand up to his shoulder to urge him backward toward the foot of the bed. When his brow crinkled (rather adorably) at her request, she got up onto her knees to whisper into his ear, "If you're worried about it, why not just let me lead?"

He swallowed thickly before responding, "As you wish," kicking his legs out from underneath himself, and leaning back.

She smiled as she climbed on top of him, settling on the tops of his thighs for a moment while she gathered her hair over one shoulder.

She was absolutely radiant. A goddess in his lap. He could scarcely breathe out of reverence for her, or so he thought. But then she brought her hips up a little higher, and grabbed hold of him, lining him up where they both were aching so desperately for each other.

With incredible control she slowly lowered herself down, letting him slip into her inch by glorious inch until she felt the tip of him stretching her inner walls. They both sighed in gratification as she settled there, him pushed into her to the hilt, her legs wrapped around him in an intimate embrace, eyes locked into a fiercely passionate gaze as the enormity of the moment came into focus.

This felt more like home than either of them had ever experienced - here, alone with each other. Finally able to admit their feelings, to let their defenses fall by the wayside and simply _be_ with each other.

But all of the emotional consequences of the moment, their bodies refused to be ignored - demanding release of the tension that had been building for so much longer than the scant minutes they'd been in this bedroom.

Emma rolled her hips, earning a groan from him as she started to slow and steady rhythm. His hand found it's way down to her waist, his thumb digging in near her stomach while his fingertips pressed insistently into her back. He wasn't guiding her movements, just hanging onto her, as if he was afraid that she wasn't real.

After a few minutes, she couldn't help but quicken her pace. As much as she wanted to revel in this, she could feel that familiar tension building low in her belly as he slid in and out of her over and over again - that age-old push and pull that built her up higher and higher.

He was feeling much the same, after so much pining, here she was, bouncing in his lap like some kind of angel of his dreams. And for all of his "prowess" he was helplessly heading closer and closer to the bliss he didn't want to find.

He snapped his hips up into her as she moved above him, meeting her thrust at just the perfect moment - and she had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in pleasure, the sound just becoming a kind of mewl behind her hand.

He grinned at that, knowing he'd found the exact thing that would send her over that edge with him. He brought his hand to the place where they were joined, all the while keeping his thrusts perfectly timed with hers - he brought just the very tips of his fingers to that ultra-sensitive spot between her legs and felt her stiffen above him as he flicked over it several times.

He pistoned his hips up into her harshly as he felt her inner walls begin to flutter around him, she gasped and dropped her hips down again, pushing him even deeper into her before grinding into his hand as she crashed headlong into her pleasure.

The most incredible waves of pleasure rolled through her as he thrust upward once, twice, three more times before losing himself in the same blissful agony. His jaw dropped open and he moaned and mumbled incoherently as he pulsed hotly inside of her, drawing out their orgasms with shallow little thrusts until she sighed heavily, sinking down to curl up on his chest - letting him slip out of her with the movement.

She could feel herself rise and fall with each of his heavy breaths as they slowed back down along with the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

They didn't say anything for a long time, just enjoying the feeling of skin on skin, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair or drawing lazy patterns on her shoulder or back until she rolled to the side, still staying closely tucked into his side, but resting her head on her hand so that she could see him better.

"What do we tell Henry?" She asked calmly, seeming more curious than worried.

"Honestly, Swan, I'll be he knows more than you'd like to think. But I suppose we could sit him down and explain that when a man loves a woman -" She huffed and slapped at him playfully.

"You know that's not what I meant." She glared at him, but there wasn't any real annoyance or weight behind her stare, and even that turned into a soft smile when he grinned and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead.

"We'll get him to remember. I don't know how, but I'm sure we'll figure something out."

She snuggled back down into him, letting her hand find it's way over his heart.

"Together?" She whispered her question into the crisp hairs of his chest.

"Aye love, together."


	16. Everything We Need

_A bit of beanstalk divergent smut for the incomparable fergus80 (on Tumblr) - because you mentioned you love season 2 and there's not so much fic out there from that time, and (let's be real here) I've always thought that Anton would've been knocked out for longer than that, so I've created an extra scene in there to make up for some of what I considered to be missing time. I also know that you love season 3, and that you have a bit of a size kink, so I've got some of that going on as well. Hope it *ahem* hits the right spots ;)_

* * *

Emma rolled her eyes. This guy was unbelievable. She knew he was lying from the moment he opened his mouth. Something just wasn't right. To be be fair, he was a decent actor but her superpower told her there was more to this man than he was letting on.

At first she was struck by the vibrant color in his eyes. To the others, they likely shone with fear and panic - but she saw a hint of mischief behind those forget-me-not blues. He was quite handsome. A bit roguish and rough around the edges, despite his story of cowardice he seemed to be the kind of man who wouldn't run from a fight so easily. Mulan had mentioned something about him being a blacksmith, which might have been true - he had the hallmarks of a man who knew a bit about hard work - but there was also something dignified about the way he carried himself that belied his stated humble profession.

He was a knotted mystery that Emma desperately wanted to untangle, but they had more important things to do. Learning of Cora was certainly a problem. She thought Regina was bad, and by the sound of it, the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. But they had to get back to Henry, and quickly. They didn't have time to mess around with his lies.

He'd offered to guide them on their quest for a portal back to Storybrooke, and that's when Emma made her move. She stood behind him while he was still seated, and moved to forcefully grab a fistful of his dark hair, yanking backward to expose his throat as she moved her knife to the delicate skin there, pressed tight enough to let him know she wasn't kidding, but not so hard as to cut just yet.

He hissed at the contact of the cool metal and harsh pressure on his neck - his mind whirling with the potential new strategies at this new turn of events as well as with respect and admiration for this fierce woman. She was certainly something to behold - an entrancing combination of fire, grit and elegant beauty. Her soft golden hair cascading over buttery dark red leather as she sized him up. He'd been with many women through the years, but few had managed to really catch his eye - and she had immediately joined their ranks, even as she held his life at her dagger's edge.

They tied him to a nearby tree, the bonds surprisingly snug, and when he maintained his story about being a blacksmith Emma whistled loudly to attract the ogres and get him to hurry up and tell them the truth. She could see in the way that her mother and Mulan paled that it was a bold move, and no matter how tough this guy might think he is, he was about to fold, or die for it.

She started to walk away and he found his heartbeat racing - not only from the prospect of having to face the ogres, but oddly - also at the prospect of her leaving him there, never to see one another again. He was far too intrigued by this woman to let her get away so easily.

He told them of his true identity, not Killian Jones, but the fearsome Captain Hook. Emma groaned at his confession - this whole "fairytale character" thing was getting out of hand. Snow White, Mulan, Sleeping Beauty, and now Captain freaking Hook?! Not to mention, he looked absolutely nothing like the character in the movies - this version was younger and much much more handsome, entirely too handsome.

His body language changed immediately, and she felt the warmth of being right spread through her as she watched him shift from frightened blacksmith to his true self: a swaggering, confident pirate. Even as he was tied up he oozed charisma bravado.

He decided to tell them the truth, and figure out the rest as he went - leaving both potential alliances open for the time being. He told them of the compass, and offered his services to help them find it before Cora, stating he just needed a ride to Storybrooke and he didn't care how he got there. He was so close to catching his crocodile, he would do whatever it took now.

He was relieved when they cut him down - still not trusting him, but letting him loose nonetheless, which was good enough for him. They walked quickly and with purpose, and he couldn't help it as his eyes fell to her backside a few times during their trek. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen - even in her strange attire. The pants she was wearing were perfectly tight and form fitting, the short jacket leaving everything on display as she moved deftly through the leaves and fallen branches.

Before long they had arrived at the beanstalk, the group eager to move on. Emma didn't seem to have much knowledge of this realm, which intrigued him even more - curious to know what land she came from and what it was like. With any luck, he'd see it himself shortly.

He was finally able to get them to free his arms so he could pull off his costume cloak - sighing a breath of relief as he felt more and more like himself. Emma's jaw nearly dropped at the sight of him, all of that black leather clinging to him as if it was a second skin. He was something to behold, and she cursed the fairy tales for their inaccuracy.

They spoke quickly of their game plan, using the magic cuffs to climb the beanstalk and use Mulan's sleeping powder on the giant. Mary Margaret wanted to go instead, claiming her knowledge of the Enchanted Forest would be helpful, but Emma knew that what mattered most now was determination - and she had plenty of that. Her motivation was Henry, and that was enough to see her through all manner of new challenges.

And, as much as she refused to admit it, she wanted to stay close to Hook. She told herself it was simply that she still didn't trust him, and she thought her judgment and her perception would be better than Mary Margaret's - but the truth was much more wanted to be close to him - she was drawn to him in a way that defied words. Not only was he devastatingly attractive, but there was something underneath that resonated with her.

They climbed for what felt like a very long time, and he hardly stopped talking for most of it. A lot of it was innuendo and teasing jests, but as the clouds started to separate them from the group down below and they were in a world all their own, he grew more persistent.

He mentioned that he understood she wanted to get back to a child, and she huffed in annoyance. She wasn't particularly trying to hide Henry from him, but for him to use it as some indication that he could read her? She bristled at that, accusing him of eavesdropping. But it was what came next that threw her off balance. He mentioned that part of her determination might be that she herself was abandoned.

Had she not been so focused on the task at hand, she may have reacted more defensively, but as it was, she was confused as to how he could possibly know that about her.

"I spent many years in Neverland, home of the lost boys. They all share the same look in their eyes. The look you get when you've been left alone."

He didn't go so far as to reveal the fact that he could see that look so well partially because he knew exactly what that was like from firsthand experience, but the explanation he gave was enough for now.

She was closed-off, shutting out the world. He could see that the walls around her heart were higher than the beanstalk they were currently climbing, and he was unconvinced that anyone had ever scaled them. She didn't seem the sort to make it any easier, that's for sure.

"Have you ever even been in love?" He questioned, knowing she wouldn't answer fully.

"No." She said quickly. "I have never been in love."

He wasn't bad at telling when people were lying to him either, and there was something in that response that rang false, but he didn't press it for now. Focusing instead on their climb, which was nearly at an end.

The tension was thick between them, each thinking about the other and the small details that had been revealed about themselves. Killian had no qualms about showing his interest in her, she was a fearsome and gorgeous lass - and he could tell that she was intrigued by him, but not quite comfortable enough to admit it.

At the top of the beanstalk they hopped over the ledge and caught their breath for a moment before he noticed her hand was bleeding.

He offered to help her, but she resisted, stepping backward and away from him. Regardless, he was undeterred, reaching out to catch her upturned wrist in the crook of his hook and pulling them closer together.

She looked at him exasperatedly.

"So now you're going to be a gentleman?"

"Giants can smell blood." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And I'm always a gentleman."

She sighed again at his dramatic nature, but as he held her injured hand her heart jumped into her throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. She tried to blame it on the exertion of the climb, but the true culprit was the color of his eyes and the flicker of electricity between them as they touched.

He pulled a flask from his pocket, moving to uncork it with his teeth in a way that made her breath catch. He looked positively indecent like that - mouth half open, looking up at her through his long lashes. She could do nothing but stare at him in that moment, until the bracing shock of pain knocked her from the moment.

"What the hell is that?!" She shouted, confused as to what could've possibly burned that badly on her open cut.

"It's rum. A bloody waste of it."

He didn't seem the least bit phased by her reaction - nor did he really seem upset about losing the rum, focusing instead on inspecting her injury further.

Once satisfied, he pulled a long piece of black cloth from around his neck and began to wind it around her palm.

"Now here's the plan – we wait for the giant to fall asleep. And when he does, we'll sneak past him into his cave. It's where the treasures are – where the compass lies."

He brought her hand toward his mouth, catching one edge of the cloth between his teeth and looking up at her as he gripped the other end with his hand and pulled - tightening and securing the fabric.

It was as if the heat from the rum had entered her bloodstream and set her fiber of her being wanted to forget about that giant and find out if his mouth was that talented in other places as well. But they had a task to accomplish, and the giant could come out and find them at any moment.

"And then?" She finally managed to ask.

He smiled up at her with a slightly lopsided grin - looking every bit the charming sailor.

"And then we run like hell."

Hook didn't know about Emma's impending time limit, Mulan was due to cut this whole beanstalk down. Rather than waiting for the giant to fall asleep on his own, they'd have to take the riskier move of hitting him with the sleeping powder and putting him down on their time frame.

He agreed, and went back into full flirting pirate mode, making some comment about her being tough. It was a little unnerving really, the way he so quickly turned on the charm. She was curious to see the real man beneath the bravado. And a quick glimpse of his wrist showed her a snippet of that past he was guarding - Milah.

"Who's Milah?" She asked. Nodding at his arm. "From the tattoo?"

He stiffened unnaturally at her name. Clearly there was a lot of hurt there. She could practically see him pulling his own armor on - unwilling to talk about it. It was a move she was all too familiar with, and her heart ached to see what it looked like from this side.

"Someone from long ago," was all he managed to say.

"Where is she?" She pressed, knowing it wasn't wise, but she couldn't help it. She felt compelled to figure him out.

"She's gone." His clipped phrases and flat voice made it apparent he had no interest in talking with her about this. She wasn't quite sure if "gone" meant that Milah had left, or if it meant something more permanent, but either way - everything suddenly clicked into place.

"Gold. Rumpelstiltskin. He took more than your hand from you, didn't he? That's why you want to kill him."

It all made sense now. He blinked up at her in surprise - still not wanting to discuss it further, but impressed with her ability to read him just as well as he read her.

"For someone who's never been in love, you're quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"Maybe I was, once." Her mind drifted a little to think of Neal and everything they'd gone through. She may have been in love with him, she was so young it's difficult to say. But none of that mattered. Especially not now.

They needed to focus on the task at hand. Henry was waiting for her.

They took their positions: her aloft a statue to put her in better alignment with the giant's head, and him on the ground to act as bait. Once they were ready, he made as much noise as possible, teasing the giant out by shouting and hitting a massive shield with a large bone.

"Hey! You big git! Yeah, you. Huh? You want to kill a human? Huh? You want to kill a human? Well, I'm the worst human around. Come on. Come on, then! Come on, then!" He was shouting and sidestepping, trying to pull the giant in the direction he wanted.

Emma was astounded by his tactics, not just getting the giant's attention and then running away, but rather taunting him for a shockingly small distance. He was able to get the giant to turn and face her just so, and as he bent to pluck Killian from the ground she threw the poppy powder into his face, and he fell with a mighty thud.

Killian was nowhere to be seen, and from the way he was taunting that giant, he may not have been able to escape his sudden fall.

"Hook?" She called out - disturbed when she was met with silence. "Hook!"

Her second exclamation held a note of fear that she felt like she didn't owe him. They hadn't known each other for long, and he'd proven to be a bit of a pain in the ass, really, although quite helpful with the giant - even she had to admit. But the thought of him being crushed to death had her heart racing and her stomach churning. Why did she care so much what happened to him?

"He's out cold." Came a voice from behind the massive man laying on the ground - and then suddenly Hook was just barely visible from the other side. He looked entirely calm, having no idea the panic he'd instilled in her just then. "I don't mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team."

She was relieved, and somewhat annoyed as she made her way down the statue and they headed in to find the compass. Hook was distracted by all of the glittering gold of the giant's treasure as they looked around - pocketing a few small items and coins as they walked.

They had no idea where to start, but they also didn't know how much time they'd have left. She was looking around - recalling all of her time as a thief to more or less "case" the place and figure out where the compass was likely hiding.

She noticed a morbid sight - a corpse on the ground with a sword nearby, which Killian informed her was Jack, the famous giant killer.

They continued walking, Emma's head on a swivel to take in their surroundings when she noticed a small line hanging about a foot in the air directly across their path - and Hook was headed straight for it.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" She yelled and pulled him backward, his lean body crashing into hers somewhat clumsily before he righted himself and planted his feet a little wider.

"It's about bloody time," he smiled at her, closing his arms around her to keep them pressed tightly together. Emma didn't move to separate them, but nodded upward to draw his attention to a cage hanging from the ceiling.

"It's a trip wire. Quite a security system," she said. He glanced at her in appraisal, impressed at her situational awareness, and the fact that he just saved them both - but still not quite buying the explanation.

"Is that all, love?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Still holding them closely together - noting the way she swallowed thickly as her eyes shifted from his blue gaze down to his lips. "Well, that's a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time don't stand on ceremony."

Her breathing was shallow, and she knew she shouldn't be so wrapped up in this moment, but he was shockingly handsome, and their adrenaline was running high - and she was so relieved that he was OK. She licked her lips and looked at him to do a little teasing of her own.

"Well, I'm not much for formalities anyway." She said, pressing her chest closer to him as she spoke.

His heart was hammering in his chest as she flirted back. She didn't seem much in the mood for his insinuations, but something flipped inside of her - like a switch turning on she was suddenly receptive, and he couldn't believe his good luck.

"Is that so?" He rolled his hips against her, testing her, and he was rewarded when her head fell back just a little at the movement. "If I recall, you may not care for formalities, but nor do you care for pirates. Do I sense a change in the direction of the winds perhaps?"

He wanted to be certain she was actually flirting back, that it wasn't just one-sided.

"I may not trust a pirate, but from what I hear they're experts in pillaging and plundering." She wriggled against him, moving them further from the trip wire before they got to carried away.

He gulped at the movement and the clarity of her statements. He had no idea what had come over her, but he couldn't bring himself to fight it either. He may regret it later, but for now, the only thing he cared about was Emma Swan being his personal siren.

"Care to prove the theory, captain?" She had rocked forward onto her toes to whisper it into the shell of his ear, the heat of her breath gathering there and traveling through his entire body until his blood felt like the was boiling with desire for her.

"I told you lass," he kissed at the side of her neck between works, sucking lightly at her pulse points in a way that had her gasping. "I love a challenge."

He pulled back a little so that she could see the way the blue of his eyes had darkened considerably - the pupils blown wide as he got lost in her beauty. They stared at eachother for a few tense moments before Emma's lips crashed against his.

As she moved against him he stood stock still - almost as if despite all of their flirting he was still surprised at the turn of events. In truth, he was still shocked at how quickly she'd warmed to him - but she was showing him just how interested she was with every swipe of her velvety tongue across his.

In another moment he was pushing right back, their heads tilting and swaying in perfect harmony as they explored each other. He was an incredible kisser, making her forget everything beyond the perfection of this moment. All that mattered was the solid feeling of his body against her, his and gripping her waist and then toying with her hair as they kissed.

Soon enough she was craving more and she wantonly rolled into him, feeling the evidence of his arousal at the straining leather of his pants. She reached her hand between them and cupped his length before gripping it lightly as he threw his head back and moaned at the pressure he had so desperately wanted.

She pressed her hand to his chest, more or less throwing him against the nearby wall so hard that he actually kind of bounced off of it with an "oomf" before she was on him again. She was unlike any woman he'd ever been with - taking exactly what she wanted, being just as forceful with him as he wanted to be with her. She was unashamed in taking her pleasure, and he wanted nothing more than to give her everything she desired.

She was growing needy - hips rocking into his thigh so as to pull the seam of her jeans to rub right where she wanted him. He took advantage of the moment, spinning them so that her back was against the wall, kissing her neck as he fumbled with the unfamiliar fastenings of her trousers.

"Let me," she said, quickly putting her hand between them to pop the button and pull the zipper, before shimmying the material down her legs, leaving her in just her black cotton panties. She wished for a moment she was wearing something less practical and little sexier, but the look on his face let her know he appreciated these just the same.

"Seven hells, lass," he looked her over and was practically drooling at the sight of her lean legs exposed all the way up to this tiny piece of fabric covering only her most intimate of spots. She was still wearing her shirt and leather jacket, but when he brought his hook to the edge of her panties and flicked his wrist, tearing them off her body in an instant, she couldn't care less about the rest of her clothing.

He bent down low enough to hike her legs up onto his shoulders slightly, urging her to open even wider for him as he kissed up her thighs and finally to the place she wanted him most. He wasted no time in pressing a few gentle kisses to her, finding her wet and ready for him. His tongue pressed along her folds, wiggling just a little as he went, tasting her essence and lapping at her over and over until she was seeing stars.

He was incredibly talented - his clever tongue was just as good at the deed itself as it was at making those ridiculous innuendos. Within a few minutes and was writing in his hold, desperate for more. She was practically begging for him - wanting to be stretched until she felt that familiar burn.

"Please, Hook - I want you," she pleaded in breathy voice, and he knew exactly what she meant. He eased her legs back down and stood in front of her, the leather of his pants straining even more now. He was impossibly hard and just as needy as she was - the captain in him wanting to claim her forcefully, and the person he thought was long gong - Killian Jones - wanting to take his time and make her believe in love again. It was a silly idea really, this was clearly just a roll in the hay (or the giant's treasure, as it were), to her - and he was still willing to oblige.

"As you wish," he said, tossing her a wink as he started pulling at the laces of his vest and pants. He shrugged out of his vest and shirt, letting them fall to the floor before coming back to her to kiss her soundly, the taste of herself on his tongue strangely erotic. She was impatient, pushing at his pants, trying to get them off of him, and he chuckled at her insistence.

He stepped back again pulling them all the way down and off before standing in front of her as if waiting for her approval. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but boy did she approve. His chest was broader than it seemed before, and dusted with a generous amount of dark hair, his body just as toned as she had felt when she pulled him back from that trip wire. But her mouth went dry when she followed the dark trail of hair down to his erection.

Even just as she palmed him through his pants before, she could tell he was large, but with nothing between them it was clear that at least some of his bragging wasn't unwarranted. He grinned back at her, knowing exactly what she thought of him without saying a word.

"Think you can handle it, love?" He teased as he rocked his hips into her, pressing his erection into her stomach, loving the feeling of her soft and pliant body against him.

"Maybe you're the one who couldn't handle it, Captain." She teased right back, reaching between them to wrap her hand around his length and give it a few quick pumps that had him hissing and moaning in an instant.

With that movement their banter was at an end - the desire had grown too urgent for the teasing touches and words. He gripped the back of her thigh and urged her to wrap her legs around him - which she did without hesitation, his cock slipping through her folds with the movement, but not yet pressing inside.

He was so close, and she wanted him so badly, but he remained completely still for a moment, pulling back enough to see her face clearly.

"Are you sure?" He asked sincerely - in that moment he was Killian Jones again.

She nodded at him and reached her hand between them, lining him up with her entrance and rolling her hips as much as she could to encourage him. He took a shaky breath and rocked forward an inch or so, just enough so that the belled tip of him entered her. They both gasped at the immense sensation of it all - his velvety hard length, the incredible tight warmth of her. It was truly amazing.

"More, please." She was so desperate for him to move that she didn't even mind the breathy tone in her voice. The way he had her begging.

That was all the encouragement he needed as he slowly pressed into her, inch by glorious inch until he bottomed out inside of her. She cried out in pain and he flinched at the sound of it - holding perfectly still until her body relaxed and grew accustomed to his generous length.

"Alright, love?" He asked tenderly, and she nodded again.

He pressed forward again, sinking the last inch of himself into her and holding still again as she grew accustomed to him. He'd been with enough women to know that his size was sometimes an issue for them - that it could be painful if he wasn't paying attention, and honestly, in his darker days he hadn't much cared. But with Emma, it was different. He wanted her to feel nothing but pleasure.

"Oh God," she was panting in his ear. "You're…" she was writing against him again, "so big."

"So I'm told," he teased her with a few gentle pushes, watching the crinkle in her brow as she took him in so deeply.

He felt absolutely incredible - pressed so deeply into her that she wasn't even sure how he fit. It seemed impossible, but with every rut of his hips she relaxed more and more - the tension giving way to the immense pleasure of feeling him seated so deeply within her. Marking her in a way that no other man could possibly ever do again. Her breathing was shallow and she was chasing that feeling, rolling her hips in a slight circle as she pushed her shoulders into the wall for greater pressure, pulling him even deeper.

His hips stuttered at her movement before breaking into their own pace - each languid stroke slow and deep, a snap of his hips upward as he buried himself into her completely had her tensing in his arms.

"Oh, Captain!" She cried out, and his pride surged at the sound of his title on her tongue in pleasure. He went absolutely mad with the need to hear it again and he drove his hips into her relentlessly - hitting that same glorious spot deep within her over and over without fail.

"Again." He commanded with an edge to his voice that should have scared her, but only turned her on further.

"Just like that, Captain!" She curled her arms around his neck tighter as he continued his brutal pace. "Don't stop! Don't stop!"

She could feel that familiar knot low in her stomach as he worked her - tendrils of pleasure racing through her arms and legs, her brain buzzing with heady passion as her inner walls began to flutter ever so slightly around him. She was just on that edge, everything in her tense and ready for just the right moment to let go.

"Emma, Gods" his pace was faltering slightly and his brow was furrowed in concentration.

He almost looked like he was in pain, but the gravel in his voice made it clear that his agony was of an entirely different nature. He could feel her starting to squeeze him tighter, as her voice and movements grew desperate.

"So close," he gritted out in warning, knowing she was right there with him.

With that she snaked her hand down to where they were connected and swiped over her sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, practiced circles. The sight of her touching herself as he disappeared inside her was too much for him, and he pounded away with extra enthusiasm, determined for them to fall together.

"Come on love, come with me" he begged her as he rocked in rhythm with her hand - and she finally flew over that edge, every nerve in her body firing with an orgasm that was unlike any other. The power of it slammed into her so hard that she could barely keep herself upright as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her.

Killian had never felt anything more incredible than Emma Swan riding him as she chased her ecstasy by way of his body. He could only manage a few more thrusts before the sensations overtook him, dragging him headlong into his own rapture as he tensed and pulsed hotly inside of her, biting down onto her shoulder harshly as his hips stuttered and slowed.

His vision had gone dark with the combined force of his orgasm and the exertion of holding her up in that position for so long, and as he eased her feet back to the floor he leaned his forehead against the wall behind her, still caging her in with his body as he slipped from her and they caught their breath.

She could feel their combined release starting to drip down her leg, and that sticky feeling along with the bite of the cool air on his still wet cock pulled them from the moment. He stepped back and handed her the jeans they'd tossed aside, along with her ruined panties - which she used to clean herself up a little before shoving them into her pocket to get rid of somewhere later.

He was staring at her in wonderment, still breathless and absolutely wrecked.

"That was…" there were no words. It was everything.

"A one time thing, Pirate." Emma said bluntly, too afraid of the emotion behind his eyes to admit that she was already craving his touch again.

He frowned at her then, unable to mask his disappointment. Luckily for him, she was too busy pulling her jeans back up to notice. He went about putting himself back together again as well, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to let this go, for now. There would be no use in pushing her too hard, only to have her push him away for good.

"Now," she said determinedly. "We better hurry."

He was still lacing up his vest. "What's rush, love?"

"How long do you think magic knockout powder lasts?" She asked.

"I haven't got a clue," he shrugged.

"That's my rush." She said flatly.

"Too right, lass. Come." He motioned forward, letting her step ahead of them to resume their search. "Everything we need is right in front of us."


End file.
